THE HIGHLANDER WALKS
Oh! how glad we all were to see Big Chief back again.
The lad was ashamed of himself. It was just as I thought. He had a good
heart under all his follies.
"I wanths thomething to eat," cried Big Wig.
"All right, brother," said Big Chief kindly, "I'll get it for you."
"No, boy," said his mother and her eyes glistened as she gazed at him,
"I will take them all to the pantry. You and Cassowary go after the
hound."
He gave her an affectionate glance, then turned to me. "Mother says you
gave the alarm to-night. Now if you know where Drunkard is, take us to
him."
Of course I led them to the gates, where Drunkard lay moaning now.
"Leg's broken," said Big Chief, bending over him; "right fore-leg," and
gathering the dog up in his arms he came back to the house.
Cassowary ran ahead, and turned on the light in her father's office.
Then putting Drunkard on a table, the two clever young ones set his
leg.
"You'll dog no more deer for a time, my boy," said Cassowary.
Drunkard could not talk to them, but he lifted his head and threw me a
glance as I stood in the doorway. "I'm going to be lame, Prince Fetlar.
This is my punishment for persecuting the deer. Mr. Devering will never
have to tie me up again. I shall be able to hop about daytimes--that's
one consolation."
"I'm glad Bolshy didn't break your neck," I said. Drunkard was licking
the children's hands. How much he loved this dear boy and girl.
"Now a little milk for the patient," said Cassowary, and she flew away
to the kitchen.
Big Chief lifted Drunkard to a sofa. "I shall spend the rest of the
night beside you in this big chair, old man," he said. "I don't want
that bandage disturbed."
Drunkard whined in embarrassed pleasure.
"It's all right," said Big Chief. "I don't mind. You're our dog and
we're bound to look after you. Now, Miss Cassowary will stay here while
I'm gone," and he turned to me.
Drunkard, in spite of his distress, grinned at me. The boy's grand air
amused him.
I thought I'd better start for the stable, so I trotted quickly to my
stall.
"Oh! boy," said Big Chief behind me when he saw the door rolled back.
"So you can use your teeth as well as your brains. You're as clever as
that bally master of yours. I do hope you will continue to do as you
please. Perhaps you would like to take my bed and have me stay here?"
I said nothing to this. I don't like to be made fun of.
"When I'm master," this queer boy went on, "I'll not drive with the
loose rein Dad does. Too much liberty--too much given away. I'll show
'em what's what," and he waved his hand about the stable, with the air
of a master.
Then he stepped to the door and surveyed barnyard and out-buildings.
"I'm fourteen now, soon I'll be twenty-one. Dad's forty-five. Likely
he'll live till he's sixty--maybe till seventy. Split the differ and say
sixty-five. Then I'll be thirty-four--a long time to wait, but time
passes, they say, as one gets older. I'll be married by that time, and
have children of my own. Probably I'll build up this place into the best
known stock farm in the province--but I shan't have twice the help Dad
has. There's too much money spent here," and the young scamp had the
audacity to look up at the calm Lady Moon, who stopped smiling as she
heard his folly and drew a cloud of displeasure across her face.
Under pretence of nosing him affectionately, I stepped up and rubbed his
shoulder. He had on a bath-robe over his pajamas, but it was quite easy
for my strong teeth to give him a quiet little nip.
He drew off to hit me, but I wasn't there. Then he stopped and shivered.
I was delighted. A most beautiful thing was taking place. A wave of
cool air swept over us, then I saw the old Highlander in his coon skin
coat and rabbit cap coming slowly toward us.
He was a cheerful old spirit, and I could tell by his misty face that he
loved the boy and wished to help him.
Big Chief started to walk to the house. Three times the Highlander stood
in front of him, pale, shadowy, smiling, but quite decided.
Three times the lad shuddered. He was no coward, but something more
powerful than himself was making him feel lonely.
Suddenly he stopped short, and turned toward the lake.
A wind had sprung up. One of the sudden summer squalls was coming. The
trees were sighing mournfully, and as they sighed the boy's better
spirit rose gently within him.
"Dad!" he murmured, "Dad! where are you?--Suppose you never came
back--God forgive me--what should I do without my father?" and throwing
himself on the grass, he buried his face in his arms.
He got up when the Highlander willed him to, and went sadly toward the
house, his head hanging.
"Highlander," I ventured to say, "you've done a good deed to-night."
Good and bad spirits never speak to human beings. They just hover over
them, but they can speak to animals.
"Pony," said the good old man, "the boy is God's child. He will soon be
God's man. You must respect him for you, too, are God's little
animal--not as high as the boy, but still having rights."
I listened quietly, and feeling very much happier watched the old man's
cloud with its misty fur points melt into the gloom of the log cabin.
Then I went toward the barn cellar. I, too, had a little missionary work
to do that night.
It was just as I expected. The pigs were snoring like thunderstorms and
the two dogs were lying on the threshold as sound as tops.
They never stirred till my shoes struck the sill, then they were close
to me, one on each side like wolves closing on a deer.
"Well! dogs," I said sarcastically, "I hope you are having pleasant
dreams."
"Quite, thank you," said Guardie. "May I ask why you are at this hour of
the night waking our charges from well-deserved slumbers?"
"Certainly," I said, listening to old Sir Vet who was snorting
disagreeably as he raised his head from his fresh straw bed and Lady
Annabella who was ejaculating, "Unk! Unk!--What's the row?"
"I merely called to tell you that we have had a night prowler who
knocked poor Drunkard silly. Why weren't you on the alert? I've been
keeping dog watch."
Guardie yawned. "Awfully sorry, old boy, but we've trained ourselves not
to budge unless we hear someone approaching our pigs."
"Pretty selfish policy that," I said. "If you'd been more generous you
might have saved Drunkard a broken leg."
"Is that so!" both dogs exclaimed, "too bad!" and then I had to tell
them about Bolshy.
While we were talking, old Sir Vet got up from his bed and pegged along
toward us.
When I finished he turned his small but intelligent eyes on Guardie. "Do
I understand Prince Fetlar to say that you are an insufficient
protection for us at night?"
"No, I'm not--I'm a good guard," snarled the collie.
"But you said you only woke up when someone came near the barn cellar,"
pursued the boar. "Suppose there was a fire outside. We might be burned
up."
"If there was a fire, I'd smell it, and bunch you all up and run you out
pretty quick," said Guardie.
"You're too much taken up with yourself," said Sir Vet testily. "You
think we can't live without you. I'd advise you to have eyes for
something else beside us. Make yourself familiar with our environment.
That Russian might have stood back from the doorway and shot me."
Girlie began to snicker at this, and Guardie looked so furious that I
said, "Permit me, gentlemen--Sir Vet is right and Guardie is right. Each
one must attend to his own business in this world, but it is right and
it is also wise to have a thought for your neighbour. For pigs to
prosper, all the animals on the farm must prosper. For pigs to sleep
well, all the animals must sleep well. Therefore all dogs must be
interested in all animals."
"If you expect me to run this farm," said Guardie sulkily, "you're
mistaken. I have enough to do to take care of these ungrateful creatures
here," and he nodded toward the other pigs who were waking up and
grunting irritably.
"You're not expected to run the farm, Guardie, dear," said Girlie.
"You're merely expected to sleep with one ear open. You needn't do it if
you don't want to. I will. I fear we have been selfish."
"You are never selfish, madam," said Sir Vet respectfully, "but your dog
of a husband is."
"Now I'm going to bite you for that," said Guardie.
"Oh! no, you're not," I said putting myself between them, "and if you
don't go lie down, Guardie, and sleep off your ill-humour, you'll wish
you had been born an armadillo."
"So you can kick, can you," sneered Guardie. "You! gentle creature."
I just gave him a little curved one to stop his nonsense, and he drew
back panting.
"Go to bed, handsome Prince Fetlar," said Girlie coaxingly. "Guardie
isn't well. There was too much fat in his soup to-night. He has a
delicate stomach."
"His stomach's all right," I said. "So are his legs. It's his temper
that's sick," and I kept a wary eye on the hysterical collie, who was
making a mad leap in the air at me.
Of course he didn't get me, but fell fair on Sir Vet's back. The old
boar started to give him a dressing-down, and Lady Annabella came to
help him. Girlie pitched in to assist her mate, and we were having a
fine mix-up, when a cold shadow stepped in between us.
The good old Highlander was walking again, and had sent his pet wolf cub
to recall us to ourselves, and to remind us that fighting is not the
chief end of life.
I stopped, just as I was about to give Guardie's hind leg a sly nip. An
icy muzzle was touching my own. I shrank back from the wolf cub, and saw
the Highlander standing in the moonlight by the doorway and smiling at
us.
We had all been naughty--dogs, pigs and pony--and the human being was
rebuking us. We all slunk slowly away to bed, our tails between our
legs.
The wolf cub followed his master. He was a noble looking animal now.
"Can it be that beyond this life even wolves are made over?" I heard
Girlie whisper as I left.
As I paced slowly to my stall I heard a great horned owl cry solemnly
from the ridge-pole of the carriage house, "Whoo, hoo, hoo, the old man
walks often lately. A good heart never dies. A kind body cannot lie
still, hoo--hoo,--Lady Moon, I love you.
"'I see the moon
The moon sees me,
God bless the moon,
God bless thee!'"