"Father, Quin says he wants to stop with me."
"You mayn't do that, Quin," returned the laird with a smile; "but you
may go and stay with your master. I heard him say that he would like
you to be with him to keep you out of mischief."
"Thankee, sor. I was used to attend on 'im in the jungles to carry his
spare guns, for it's ellyphints, no less, that we was used to bag out
there; but I make no question he can amuse himsilf wid deer an' things
like that where there's nothin' better. He was always aisy to plaze,
like Mr MacRummle."
"Just so, Quin; and as MacRummle knows the hill, and has to pass the
place where Mr Jackman has been left, you had better follow him."
This arranged, the different parties took up their positions to await
the result of the beating of a strip of dwarf forest, several miles in
extent, which clothed part of the mountain slopes below the Eagle Cliff.
On reaching the spot where Jackman was stationed, old MacRummle
explained to him the various arrangements that had just been made for
the comfort of all.
"I am sorry they gave me the best place," said Jackman. "I suppose it
is because the laird thinks my experience in India entitles me to it;
but I would much rather that Mabberly or Barret had got the chance, for
I'm used to this sort of thing, and, after bagging elephants, I can
afford to lay on my oars and see my friends go in and win."
"An' sure, aren't thim the very words I said, sor?" put in Quin.
"Have they given you a good place?" asked Jackman of MacRummle, taking
no notice of his man's remarks.
"They've given me the worst," said the old man, simply; "and I cannot
blame them, for, as the keeper truly remarked, I can do nothing with the
gun,"--still less with the rifle, he might have added! "At the same
time, I confess it would have added somewhat to the zest of the day if
Ivor had allowed me some degree of hope. He thought I didn't overhear
him, but I did; for they give me credit for greater deafness than I
deserve."
There was something so pitiful, yet half amusing, in the way in which
this was said, that Jackman suddenly grasped the old gentleman's hand.
"Mr MacRummle," he said firmly, "will you do me a favour?"
"Certainly, with pleasure--if I can."
"You can--and you shall. It is this: change places and rifles with me."
"My dear, kind sir, you don't know what you ask. My rifle is an old
double-barrel muzzle loader, and at the white rock you wouldn't have the
ghost of a chance. I know the place well, having often passed it in
fishing excursions up the burns. Besides, I never used a repeating
rifle in my life. I couldn't manage it, even if I were to try."
"Mr MacRummle, are you not a Highlander?"
"I believe I am!" replied the old man, drawing himself up with a smile.
"And is not that equivalent to saying that you are a man of your word?"
"Well--I suppose it is so--at least it should be so."
"But you will prove that it is not so, if you fail to do me a favour
that lies in your power, after promising to do it. Come now, we have no
time to lose. I will show you how to use the repeater. See; it is
empty just now. All you have to do is to take aim as you would with any
ordinary rifle, and pull the trigger. When the shot is off, you load
again by simply doing _this_ to the trigger-guard--so. D'you
understand?"
"Yes, perfectly; but is that all? no putting in of cartridges anywhere?"
"No, nothing more. Simply do _that_ (open--and the cartridge flies
out), and _that_ (shut--and you are loaded and ready to fire)! Now, try
it. That's it! Capital! Couldn't be better. Why, you were born to be
a sportsman!"
"Yes, with fish," remarked the gratified old man, as he went through the
motions of loading and firing to perfection.
"Now, then, I will load it thus. Watch me."
As he spoke, he filled the chamber under the barrel with cartridge after
cartridge to the amazement of MacRummle and the amusement of Quin, who
looked on.
"How many shots will it fire without reloading?" asked the old man at
length.
"Sixteen," replied Jackman.
"What! sixteen? But--but how will I ever know how many I've let off?"
"You don't require to know. Just blaze away till it refuses to fire!
Now, I must be off. Where is this white rock that I have to go to?"
"There it is--look. A good bit down the hill, on the open ground near
the forest. If you have good eyes, you can see it from here. Look,
just behind the ridge. D'you see?"
"I see. Great luck to you. Do good work, and teach that rascal Ivor to
respect your powers with the rifle. Come along, Quin."
"But really, my young friend, it is too good, too self-denying of you
to--"
He stopped, for Jackman and Quin were already striding down the mountain
on their way to the white rock.
MacRummle had been somewhat excited by the enthusiasm of his young
friend and the novelty of his situation. To say truth, he would much
rather have been pottering along the banks of one of his loved Highland
streams, rod in hand, than crouching in the best pass of the Eagle Cliff
in expectation of red-deer; but being an amiable and sympathetic man, he
had been fired by the enthusiasm of the household that morning, and,
seeing that all were going to the drive, including the laird, he made up
his mind to brace himself up to the effort, and float with the current.
His enthusiasm had not cooled when he reached the Eagle Cliff, and
Jackman's kindness, coupled with hope and the repeating rifle, increased
it even to white heat. In which condition he sat down on a rock,
removed his hat, and wiped his bald, perspiring head, while a benignant
smile illuminated his glowing features.
About the same time, Barret and Junkie having selected a convenient mass
of rock as their outlook, so that they could command the pass for some
distance in both directions without exposing themselves to view, rested
the rifle against the cliff and began to talk. Soon the young man
discovered that the little boy, like many other mischievous boys, was of
an exceedingly inquiring disposition. Among other things, he not only
began an intelligent inquiry about the locks of a rifle, but a practical
inquiry with his fingers, which called for remonstrance.
"Do you know, Junkie, that this is the very spot where your Cousin Milly
fell?" said Barret, by way of directing the urchin's thoughts into a
safer channel.
"Is it? Oh, dear, _what_ a thump she must have come down!"
"Yes, indeed, a dreadful thump--poor thing. She was trying to get
flowers at the time. Do you know that she is exceedingly fond of
flowers?"
"Oh, don't I? She's got books full of them--all pasted in with names
printed under them. I often wonder what she sees in flowers to be so
fond of them. I don't care a button for them myself, unless they smell
nice. But I often scramble after them for her."
"There is a good deal to like in flowers besides the smell," said
Barret, assuming an instructive tone, which Junkie resented on the spot.
"Oh, yes, I don't want to know; you needn't try to teach me," he said,
firmly.
"Of course not. I wouldn't think of teaching you, my boy. You know I'm
not a schoolmaster. I'm not clever enough for that, and when I was your
age, I hated to be taught. But I could _show_ you some things about
flowers and plants that would astonish you. Only it would not be safe
to do it just now, for the deer might come up and--"
"No they won't," interrupted the boy; "it's a monstrous big wood they've
got to pass through before they can come here, so we have time to look
at some of the 'stonishin' things."
"Well, then, come. We will just go a little way up the cliff."
Leading Junkie away among the masses of fallen rock, which strewed that
ledge of the cliff, the wily youth began to examine plants and flowers
minutely, and to gradually arouse in the boy's mind an interest in such
parts of botanical science as he was capable of understanding.
Meanwhile the small army of beaters had extended themselves across the
distant end of the forest, which, being some miles off, and on the other
side of a great shoulder of the mountain, was not only out of sight, but
out of hearing of the stalkers who watched the passes of the Eagle
Cliff.
All the beaters, or drivers, were well acquainted with the work they had
to do, with the exception of Robin Tips, to whom, of course, it was
quite new. But Ian Anderson put him under Donald's care, with strict
injunctions to look well after him.
"Now, Tonal', see that ye don't draw together an' git ta-alkin' so as to
forget what ye're about. Keep him at the right distance away from ye,
an' as much in line as ye can."
"Oo, ay," returned ragged head, in a tone that meant, when translated
into familiar English, "Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs!"
In a sequestered dell on the slope of the hills, a lordly stag and
several hinds were enjoying themselves that morning among the bracken
and bright mosses, partially screened from the sun by the over-arching
boughs of birch and hazel, and solaced by the tinkling music of a
neighbouring rill. Thick underwood concealed the dell on all sides;
grey lichen-covered boulders surrounded it; no sound disturbed it save
the faint cry of the plover and curlew on the distant shore, or the flap
of a hawk's wing as it soared overhead. Altogether it looked like a
safe and sure retreat, but it did not prove to be so.
Mingled with the plaintive cries of the wild fowl, there came a faint--
barely perceptible--sound of the human voice. The stag pricked up his
ears, and raised his antlered head. It was by no means a new sound to
him. The shepherd's voice calling to his collie on the mountain-side
was a familiar sound, that experience had taught him boded no evil. The
converse of friends as they plodded along the roads or foot-paths that
often skirted his lairs, had a tone of innocence about it which only
induced caution--not alarm. But there was nothing of this in the sounds
that now met his ears. He raised himself higher, opened his nostrils
wider, sniffed the tainted air, and then, turning his graceful head,
made some remark--we presume, though we cannot be positive on this
point--to his wives.
These, meek and gentle--as females usually are, or ought to be--turned
their soft inquiring gaze on their lord. Thus they stood, as if
spell-bound, while the sounds slowly but steadily increased in volume
and approached their retreat. Presently a shoulder of the mountain was
turned by the drivers, and their discordant voices came down on the
gentle breeze with unmistakable significance.
We regret being unable to report exactly what the stag then said to his
wives, but the result was that the entire family bounded from their
retreat, and, in the hurry and alarm of the moment, scattered along
various glades, all of which, however, trended ultimately towards those
mountain fastnesses that exist about and beyond the Eagle Cliff.
Two of the hinds followed their lord in a direction which led them out
of the wood within sight of, though a considerable distance from, the
white rock behind which Jackman and Quin were concealed. The others
fled by tracks somewhat higher on the hill-sides, where however, as the
reader knows, the enemy was posted to intercept them.
"Sure it's a purty stag, afther all," whispered Quin, who, in spite of
elephantine-Indian sport, was somewhat excited by this sudden appearance
of the Scottish red-deer. "But they're a long way off, sor."
"Not too far, if the rifle is true," said Jackman, in a very low voice,
as he put up the long-range sight.
"You'll git a good chance at the stag whin he tops the hillock forenent
you, sor," remarked the somewhat garrulous Irishman.
"I won't fire at the stag, Quin," returned Jackman, quietly. "You and I
have surely killed enough of bigger game abroad. We can afford to let
the stag pass on to our friends higher up, some of whom have never seen
a red-deer before, and may never have a chance of seeing one again."
All this was said by the sportsman in a low, soft voice, which could not
have been heard three yards off, yet his sharp eye was fixed intently on
the passing deer. Seeing that there was no likelihood of their coming
nearer, he raised his rifle, took steady but quick aim, and fired. One
of the hinds dropped at once; the other followed her terrified lord as
he dashed wildly up the slope.
Partial deafness is a slight disadvantage in deer-stalking. So, at
least, MacRummle discovered that day. After having wiped his forehead,
as already described, he set himself steadily to fulfil the duties of
his situation. These were not so simple as one might suppose, for, as
had been explained to him by Jackman, he had to watch two passes--one
close above his post, the other close below it--either of which might
bring the deer within easy reach of his rifle, but of course there was
the uncertainty as to which of the two passes the deer would choose. As
it was a physical impossibility to have his eyes on both passes at once,
the old gentleman soon found that turning his head every few seconds
from one side to the other became irksome. Then it became painful. At
last it became torture, and then he gave up this plan in despair,
resolving to devote a minute at a time to each pass, although feeling
that by so doing his chances were greatly diminished.
When Jackman fired his shot, MacRummle's ears refused to convey the
information to his brain. He still sat there, turning his head slowly
to and fro, and feeling rather sleepy. One of the scattered deer, which
had gone higher up the mountain, passed him by the upper track.
MacRummle was gazing at the lower track just then! Having given the
allotted time to it, he turned languidly and beheld the hind, trotting
rather slowly, for it was somewhat winded.
The sight sent sportsman-fire through the old gentleman's entire frame.
He sprang, he almost tumbled up, but before he could fire, a jealous
boulder intervened. Rushing up a few yards, he was just in time to see
the animal bound over a cliff and disappear.
Depressed beyond measure, he returned to his post and resumed the rapid
head-motion which he had foolishly discontinued. This was fortunate,
for it enabled him to see in time the stag and hind which Jackman had
sent bounding towards him. Another moment, and the affrighted creatures
were within range. MacRummle sprang up, put the repeater to his
shoulder, and then commenced a fusillade that baffles description.
Bang, bang, bang, went the repeater; bang, bang, double-bang, and
banging everywhere went the startled echoes of the mountain. Never
since it sprang from the volcanic forces of nature had the Eagle Cliff
sent forth such a spout of rattling reverberation. The old man took no
aim whatever. He merely went through the operations of load and fire
with amazing rapidity. Each crack delivered into the arms of echo was
multiplied a hundredfold. Showers of bullets seemed to hail around the
astounded quarry. Smoke, as of a battle, enshrouded the sportsman. The
rifle became almost too hot to hold, and when at last it ceased to
respond to the drain upon its bankrupt magazine, the stag and hind lay
dead upon the track, and MacRummle lay exhausted with excitement and
exertion upon the heather!
This unwonted fusillade took the various parties higher up the hill by
surprise. To Ivor, indeed, it was quite a new experience, and he
regarded it with a smile of grim contempt.
"There iss noise enough--what-e-ver!" remarked Skipper McPherson, who
sat beside the keeper with a double-barrelled gun charged with buckshot,
which he had in readiness.
"Look! look!" exclaimed Ivor, pointing to another part of the pass,
"your friend McGregor has got a fright!"
"Ay, that's true. Shames would be troubled in his mind, I think."
There was indeed some reason to suppose so. The worthy seaman, having
got tired of waiting, had, against Ivor's advice, wandered a few yards
along the pass, where, seeing something farther on that aroused his
curiosity, he laid down the single-barrelled fowling-piece with which he
had been provided, and began to clamber. Just as the repeater opened
fire, two hinds, which had got ahead of the others, ran through the pass
by different tracks. One of these McGregor saw before it came up, and
he rushed wildly back for his gun. It was this act that his comrades
rightly attributed to mental perturbation.
"Look out!" whispered the keeper.
As he spoke the other hind, doubling round a mass of fallen rock, almost
leaped into McGregor's arms. It darted aside, and the seaman, uttering
a wild shout, half raised his gun and fired. The butt hit him on the
chest and knocked him down, while the shot went whizzing in all
directions round his comrades, cutting their garments, but fortunately
doing them no serious injury.
"Oh, Shames! ye was always in too great a hurry," remonstrated the
skipper, oblivious of the fact that he himself had been too slow.
"Quick, man, fire!" cried Ivor, testily.
The captain tried to energise. In doing so he let off one barrel at the
celestial orbs unintentionally. The other might as well have gone the
same way, for all the execution it did.
When he looked at the keeper, half apologetically, he saw that he was
quietly examining his leg, which had been penetrated by a pellet.
"Eh! man, are 'ee shot?" cried the captain, anxiously.
"Oo, ay, but I'm none the worse o' it! I had a presentiment o'
somethin' o' this sort, an' loaded his gun wi' small shot," replied the
keeper.
Profound were the expressions of apology from McGregor, on learning what
he had done, and patronisingly cool were the assurances of Ivor that the
injury was a mere flea-bite. And intense was the astonishment when it
was discovered that a stag and a hind had fallen to old MacRummle with
that "treemendious" repeater! And great was the laughter afterwards, at
lunch time on the field of battle, when Junkie gravely related that
Barret was upon a precipice, trying to reach a rare plant, when the deer
passed, so that he did not get a shot at all! And confused was the
expression of Barret's face when he admitted the fact, though he
carefully avoided stating that his mind was taken up at the time with a
very different kind of dear!
It was afternoon when the assembled party, including drivers, sat down
to luncheon on the hill-side, and began to allay the cravings of
appetite, and at the same time to recount or discuss in more or less
energetic tones, the varied experiences of the morning. Gradually the
victuals were consumed, and the experiences pretty well thrashed out,
including those of poor Mabberly, who had failed to get even a chance of
a shot.
"An' sure it's no wonder at all," was Pat Quin's remark; "for the noise
was almost as bad as that night when you an' me, sor, was out after the
elephants in that great hunt in the North-western provinces of Indy."
"Oh, _do_ tell us about that," cried Junkie and his brothers, turning
eagerly to Jackman.
"So I will, my boys; but not now. It will take too long. Some other
time, in the house, perhaps, when a bad day comes."
"No, now, _now_!" cried Junkie.
Seeing that most of those present had lighted their pipes, and that the
laird seemed to wish it, Jackman washed down his lunch with a glass of
sparkling water, cleared his throat, and began.