'THERE IS THAT IN YOUR EYE WHICH CRONA LOVES.'
In this day's climb Antony could not help admiring the strength and
agility of his child-companion; she was indeed an infant prodigy, thanks
perhaps to her very extraordinary training. With her, or compared to
her, Blake hardly felt fit. Perhaps neither did Wallace, who zigzagged
back and fore to make the ascent more easy, as dogs always do when
climbing. But they gained the summit at last, and only mountaineers know
the joy of resting a while on a hill-top.
Wallace lay down to pant, with half a yard more or less of pink tongue
hanging over his right jowl, and Antony threw himself on the ground. No
heather here, hardly even moss, and a strong wind blowing.
Antony was for a time too tired to talk much; but he asked a question
now and then, and Lotty answered him often quaintly enough--for
instance, when he said, 'I have not seen your mother yet, Lotty.'
'I never had a mother, Mr Blake,' she innocently made answer.
'But, child, everyone must have had a mother.'
'Ye-es. At least I suppose so. But I think my mother must have ceased
to be a property some time before I came.'
'Do you love your father, Lotty?'
'Except when he beats me.'
The child was lying back against recumbent Wallace, and on her bare arm
above the elbow Antony thought he saw a wale. He seized her by the hand
and uncovered the streak.
'Lotty,' he said, 'who struck you with a cane? And, Lotty, I saw a blue
mark on your leg while in the boat. Who kicked you, child?'
'Father. Oh, don't tell! He'd kill me. And I'm only a property, and
sometimes so awkward and naughty.' Her eyes were swimming in tears. 'I'm
sure I have a cold,' she said, wiping them. 'But you won't tell father,
ever, ever, ever?'
'Never, never, _never_,' promised Antony.
She grew calmer and happier now, and told him all the story of her young
life as far as she knew it, and a deal about her many strange wanderings
from the silvery Tweed to the rapid Spey with the Queerest Show.
It was a fascinating story, but there was much sorrow in it; and the
tiny lace handkerchief was quite wet before she finished.
'How old is Wallace?'
'Oh, only a year; but he is mine--my friend, although of course he is
only a property.'
'And Skeleton and Mary?'
'They've always been with us. I should die if they left. Will you stop
long, Mr Blake? Do; and Mrs Pendlebury and I will try to make you
happy--especially I.'
'You droll child! But won't your fairy godmother be expecting us?'
Crona came to her cottage-door to welcome them. She wore the 'mutch,'
but was daintily dressed to receive company. Close by was a little shed
or bower entirely thatched with green rushes; and underneath this, on a
table covered by a snow-white cloth a most dainty repast was laid out,
and the witch herself was asked by Antony to preside.
Tod Lowrie hid himself into a ball, and was asleep in the sunshine, with
his tail right over his face. Perhaps Wallace thought he was in the way,
for he got his nose under the fox and rolled him right away into a dark
corner. No doubt Tod Lowrie was awake; but, fox-like, he pretended not
to be.
Joe the raven was perched on a rafter, looking sly and demoniac. Every
now and then he would say with a sigh, 'Well, well, such is life!' then
hold back his head and laugh weirdly.
At first Tim the tame mouse was not to be seen, but Lotty pointed him
out to Antony. Tim was seated on the edge of the cat's dish, and every
now and then he stretched a little white hand or paw down into pussy's
milk, then drew it up and licked it clean.
Crona's white scones and butter, and the meatpies which no doubt had
been in the parcel that Lotty sent by Wallace, were very delicious. But
there were fried mountain-trout also, and fruit to follow. But the wine
was the water from a neighbouring rill.
There was something so very unreal about all Antony's present
surroundings, and one thing with another, that more than once he thought
he must be dreaming, especially when Tim suddenly appeared on the table,
and Lotty quietly fed him from a teaspoon.
The raven kept on saying things with that eldritch, screaming laugh.
Presently it was, 'Joe, Joe, don't you!' He had hopped down to the
ground, and was slyly approaching a hassock placed there for pussy, and
the cat was asleep on it, but her tail hung down.
'Joe, Joe, don't you. He! he! he! Joe, go back to perch. Joe, see what
you'll catch!'
He was near enough now, and gave the floating tail a most cruel pinch.
Pussy screamed. Joe only backed astern and was beginning to laugh when
he received a smack on the face that made him stagger.
'You--you--you _wretch_!' he screamed; but he flew back to his perch and
laughed now till the welkin rang.
Tim disappeared.
The cat was angrily wagging her tail, and no doubt making up her mind
to pay Joe out first chance.
Tod Lowrie got up and stretched himself, and Wallace placed his great
wise head on the tablecloth close to Crona's elbow. Then every pet had a
tit-bit, and peace was restored once more.
'Come over often to see poor Crona,' said the witch to Antony when
leaving. 'There is that in your eye which Crona loves.'
He held out his hand to shake 'good-bye.' Crona took it and looked at
the palm. Then her face clouded.
Antony Blake was not slow to mark the change, and laughingly asked if
she saw anything strange in his palm.
'It was but a cursory glance,' she said. 'I could not say. There may be
nothing in palmistry, but, again, there may be something. Come again,
and come alone.'
The last words were spoken in almost a whisper, and Antony went away
wondering.
* * * * *
Biffins Lee was an up-to-date gipsy, and did not trust entirely to
horses to take the Queerest Show around the country when he made up his
mind to change ground. He had a very smart and pretty steam-engine,
which hauled three immense vans. Others came on behind with horses.
The engine at present was stored on his own camping-ground here--which,
by the way he rented from a neighbouring 'laird'--and was carefully
housed and taken care of. His horses were farmed cheaply enough.
Whatever the man's character may have been, one could not help admiring
his business capabilities--that is, if admiration can be bestowed on
mere cleverness in making money.
Frank Antony was not long in finding out that the man had one other
reason for pitching camp so far north as this: he did a roaring trade in
Shetland and Icelandic ponies, and had agents even in Shetland and
Iceland picking these up and shipping them south.
But the Queerest Show paid even here, because seldom a week in winter
passed that he did not have some strange addition to it; and when he got
tired of this he let it go and had a change. Once, indeed, during the
summer holiday season--so Mary the Skeleton's wife told Antony--he hired
for exhibition purposes the whole of a celebrated hunter's trophies in
the shape of skins of lions, elephants' skeletons, and marvels no end
from the far interior of Africa. He had dwarfs too, sometimes, and wild
men from every region on earth.
Biffins Lee knew the secret of making his dwarfs look still smaller and
his wild men wilder.
In brief, everybody visited the Queerest Show from every town within a
radius of a hundred miles, always certain they would see marvels well
worth looking at and remembering afterwards.
But he had palmists as well, and nearly every one in the camp did a
little bit of fortune-telling. Girls from cities and towns afar off came
to have their future told, and, strangely enough, many of the forecasts
came true.
Over and above all its other attractions, there was a 'grand ball' every
fortnight in the large marquee, and lads and lassies came very long
distances in order to attend it, for even the youngest English
schoolgirl must know how very fond the Scots are of music and dancing.
The camp was well situated for this sort of winter entertainment, as it
lay half-way between two rather important towns, the 'longshore pathway
being shorter far than the journey by train, and ten times more
pleasant.
These neighbouring towns were on very friendly terms with each other.
They challenged each other to games of cricket, 'gowf,' football, and to
curling on an adjoining lake when the ice was strong. Moreover, the
weekly half-holiday was not on the same day in these towns, so that
visits could be more easily exchanged.
Antony had not been more than a week here before he formed a resolve, a
strange one perhaps for a young Englishman; but then he was no ordinary
young man, hating London society as we have already seen, and with it
everything Cockney. He loved Nature in all her shows and forms--quite
as much so, perhaps, as the poet Burns or that divine naturalist Richard
Jefferies. To Antony Blake the most modest, wee, God-painted beetle that
crawled on the grass or cornstalks was not a 'creature' but 'a little
person,' with its own living to make in its own way--all so different to
our own ways--its own loves and fears, and troubles and trials quite as
hard to bear, perhaps, as those of human beings. He was not of their
world, but that did not prevent him from sympathising with them. There
was one other trait in Antony's character which surely was an honourable
one: he was careful not to inflict pain.
So the resolve he made was to stay in his caravan all winter; not quite
close to the gipsy camp though. He had his palace-on-wheels removed to a
pitch about five hundred yards off, and had his own little enclosure.
This would be quieter, and enable him to study more of the seaside flora
and fauna.
'If you like, captain,' said Biffins Lee, 'to have a little quiet
companionship at times of a winter's evening, you know, I'll tell you
what I propose.'
Antony would listen.
'Well,' said Biffins, 'I don't mind the "Silver Queen" lying at anchor
in your enclosure. There will be nobody in it but Mary the stout lady
and little Lotty. They'll do for you in the way of cooking and that sort
of thing, and the child can thrill you with her violin whenever you long
to be thrilled.'
'This is really kind of you, Mr Lee,' said Antony, 'and I gladly accept.
And I suppose Wallace can come too?'
'Oh yes; Wallace is as much a property of Lotty's as Lotty herself and
Mary are properties of mine.'
Antony smiled faintly. It was the first time in his life he had ever
heard a daughter designated as a property. And at this moment he could
not help thinking of those wales on Lotty's arm and leg.
So the 'Silver Queen' and the beautiful saloon caravan 'Gipsy Queen'
were both anchored together inside Antony's compound, and he settled
down to enjoy a life that promised to be almost idyllic.
The word 'anchored' used in the last sentence is quite the correct one,
because, on this wild coast, so terrible are the storms that at times
sweep inland from the sea that no caravan not firmly attached to the
ground by pegs and ropes could stand the wind's fierce force.
Chops himself could be spared to run messages, and could often visit the
little camp to see how things were going on.
Bruin, it soon appeared, was also going to be a pretty constant morning
visitor, for no animal ever seemed to enjoy a hearty breakfast more than
that great bear did.
Had Antony Blake desired to enter society there were many old and
wealthy families in the neighbourhood who would have given the youthful
Englishman a right hearty welcome; but he determined from the very first
to be the recluse and the student, so mildly and pleasantly, but firmly,
refused all invitations.
Not far from the camp, almost running past it indeed, was a stream which
flowed right into the sea; and in the sea, some distance beyond, our
hero was fond of having a morning swim. Wallace the Newfoundland used
always to go with him; and once, but for this strong and faithful
fellow, he would never have reached the shore. For he had swam out that
day as far as his strength would permit, and foolishly attempted to land
against the current of the river, not knowing that it was of great force
a good way out to sea.
The dog did not, on this occasion, seize him and drag him in, but
permitted Antony to lay hold of his collar and so be assisted or towed.
But only a week after, this athletic young Saxon had an adventure which,
as it has a bearing on the progress of this 'ower true tale,' must be
related in the next chapter.