His hand fell to his side.
"What brings ye here frae the dead, or from waur than the dead, Sandy
Macpherson?" he exclaimed, hoarsely.
"I've no been that far; if they that I'd have looked for had looked for
me," I answered. "If Rory Smith is alive, he can tell ye about it; or
if his dead body's been found, I'll tell my story over that afore all
Slievochan."
"Then it was you, after all?" said my uncle, sinking into a seat, and
leaning his head on his hands. "An' I've stood up for ye, and swore
that if there was foul play 'twas he, and not you--or maybe Preece, as
your aunt thocht at first, because he had the necklace. Can ye, an'
will ye, clear up this dreadfu' mystery?"
"Uncle Ivan," I said, takin' him by both hands; "look at my face and
hair; look close at my claes and shoon! Come wi' me, and bring others
too, to the cliff face below the sitting-stone in the turn o' the path--
and then it's just possible, but it's no likely, ye'll believe what I
have to tell. First, let me say to ye, I'm innocent o' any crime. Do
ye believe that?"
My uncle lookit at me long and hard, and I grippit his hands tight.
"I do," he said, at last.
A weight sprung off my heart.
"Uncle, did I ever tell ye a lee?"
"Never that I ken."
"Never--never! I kenned he wud come back!" said another voice.
It was Aunt Tibbie, and she took me in her arms. "I believed ye to be
innocent, Sandy; and sae did Rab, and a many more," she said. "But
where ha' ye been?"
"Ye'll no believe me, gin' I tell ye. I don't wonder at that. Ye can't
believe it, mebbe, but I'll tell ye."
"It's naething wrong, Sandy?" said Aunt Tibbie.
"Nae, naething but laziness, an' I couldna help that. I've been
asleep--in a traunce--in a stupor--like a toad in a stane, for a' these
years, an' have come to life this verra day!"
Then I told them all about it; and sic things as traunces--though not,
maybe, to last as long as mine--had been heard o' before, and they could
not but believe it; but they were awa' again to Rab's wedding, frae
which they'd come hame only to fetch a silver cup, that was to drink the
healths o' the bride and bridegroom.
"Auntie! where's my silver mug, that I won at the games at the laird's
hair'st?" I asked.
"Safe put away wi' the chaney, lad, an' noo it's yours again."
"Auntie, wad ye tak it as my gift ta Maggie? and, uncle, will ye gie my
message to Rab, that I'll no' stay here to bring an ill name or
suspicion on him or his; but if he'd come an' gie me his hand before I'm
awa'?--t'will be little to him, and much to me, though I've been true to
him for a whole lifetime--what's gane of it, at least."
So auntie took the silver mug, and they both left me; but not till I had
heard how, twa days after I had gane, David Preece had been to Donald
Miller's cottage an' offered Maggie a necklace o' gaudy beads, and how
Maggie handed them back tae him, though he told her he was to leave
Slievochan next day. Aunt Tibbie heard o' this: and when Maggie told
what was the like o' the bauble, there was a cry for Preece, till it was
heard how Rory Smith hadna' been seen for those three days, and that I
hadna' been found or heard o'.
So, ye ken, it was which o' us should come back first wad be ca'd to
find the other twa.
I sat brood--broodin', waiting for aunt and uncle to return. Eatin' and
drinkin', and smokin' (for there was beef an' whisky, and a cold pie o'
auntie's making); but I wadna' change my claes till they should gae wi'
me to the cliff face.
Before the sun was off the sea, I heard a sound of voices outside; and
in a minute I had a hand o' Rab, and a hand o' Maggie and her mither,
an' half-a-dozen o' our fishers round us who'd known me from a laddie;
and then uncle said, "Now let us away to the cliff path before any o'
the rest come back fra the wedding. While they think Rab and Maggie hae
gone off o' the sly, as, indeed, they hae, and are ganging ower to the
island in the new boat to Rab's cottie."
"'Twas gran' o' ye, Rab, and o' ye, too, Maggie, to come to see me on
your weddin'-day," I said. "I'll no forget it when I'm far awa."
"I would ha' been no gran' not to ha' come," said Rab, "to tell our
brither that we stan' against a' that daur accuse him o' wrang. Why
need ye gae, Sandy? Stay and tak' the brunt o't."
"An' for why, Rab? To bring trouble an' cold looks upo' them that I'd
as sune die as cause grief to, an' that when there's no need o' me to
work here. Nae, nae, I'm awa' to sea, Rab; an' when I come hame, only
friends need know who 'tis, except, indeed, I suld find Rory Smith alive
in my travels; and, who knows, but I may find puir David Preece, and get
my necklace back."
"Dinna touch it--dinna touch it!" said Aunt Tibbie, shudderin'.
So we a' went to the cliff, and there, standin' by the stane, in my
withered claes and puckered shoon, and wi' my whitened face an' a', I
told them again; and we men went down to the hole on the cliff side,
while the women sat on the stane above, and we shook hands all round.
That same evening, two boats shot out o' our little bay, the first one a
new craft, Rab's ain, wi' a gran' flag flying, and carrying him an' his
bonnie bride hame. Auntie and Mistress Miller were with us; uncle
sitting by me while I stood at the tiller, and two men forward. Behind
it was a row-boat, wi' a piper at the prow, playin' the bride hame. In
this boat we a' went back to Slievochan, except Rab and Maggie; and once
more I slept in my old room till mornin'; when, wi' a fit-out o' claes,
and some money that I was to repay as soon as I could draw my wages, I
set out for England.
It was when the Polar Expedition of 1827 was getting ready, and I was
one o' them that joined it, though ye may not know my name.
I'll no' describe onything o' that voyage, sin' ye will ha' it that I'm
repeatin' frae book; but I'm near to the end o' my yarn now. When we
met the last o' the natives near to the Pole, there was a party came out
to barter with us, and one man came forward to speak English, which he
did sae weel that we lookit hard at him. We had little to barter at
that time, but presently this fellow pulls out something frae his pouch,
an' holds it up by the end, and ye'll no believe it, but there was the
row o' beads that had nigh lost me my life, and had quite lost me my
hame above ten years before! Up to him I strode. "David Preece," I
shouted in his ear, "ye can gae back to Slievochan; for 'twas no you
that killit Rory Smith, nor that stole my present, meant for Maggie
Miller."
"No," said Preece, slowly, after looking round to see whether any of the
Esquimaux noticed him; "and I'll tell you, for your comfort, that you
didn't kill Rory Smith neither; for when I went to the great American
plains, after leaving Scotland, and finishing a job in Cornwall, I went
across with a party of trappers and Indians, and there was Rory sitting
on a mustang, and looking for all the world like a Mexikin. I shall
come home with you now, and bring this necklace with me. The people
here think it's a charm."
As Sandy Macpherson ceased, and his eyes came back out of space, the men
found their tongues.
"And did he come back, Sandy?"
"Yes; but not with me."
"And did you go back to what d'ye call it--Slievochan?"
"Of course I did, and left a nest-egg for Rab and Maggie's eldest boy."
"And that was how long ago?"
"Above thirty years."
"And have you been since?"
"Of course; to leave a dowry for _his_ eldest _girl_."
"And how long's that ago?"
"Say ten years."
"Then you haven't been to sleep since?"
"Haven't I though! I've had thirty years of it, in three different
times; else how should I be eighty year old, and yet out here."
"Well, of all the yarns--" began Bostock.
"Hoot! of a' the yarns and a' the yarns! What's wrang wi' ye? Wad ye
hae a Scot's yarn wi'out plenty o' twist tae't?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Here, stop!" cried the doctor--"stop, man! You haven't told us how you
got frozen in here. Don't say you found the North Pole?"
"No fear, doctor," I said, as a cold wind seemed to fill the tent, and
the place of the Scotch sailor was taken up by a thin, blue, filmy mist.
"But I wanted--" began the doctor.
"Don't; pray don't try to call him back, uncle," said his nephew.
"But he's told us nothing about his being frozen in," said the doctor.
"And won't now," growled Binny Scudds. "I say, lads, do you know I like
this here. We'll have another one out to-morrow."
"Let's go outside and look," said the doctor.
We did, and there was the square block of ice neatly open, leaving the
shape of the Scotch sailor perfect, even to the place where his long,
thin nose had been.
"Well, turn in, lads," said the doctor; "we'll hunt out another
to-morrow."
"So we will," said the lads. "Who's afeard?"
"Nobody!" growled Bostock. "I say, doctor, what's the difference
between these and ghosts?"
"These, my men," began the doctor, "are scientific specimens, while your
ghost is but a foolish hallucination of the--Bless me, how rude!--the
fellow's asleep."
And the rest were soon in the same condition. Early the next morning,
though, the doctor gave the order, "Strike tents!" and we journeyed on a
couple of miles along the edge of the great crater, looking curiously
down the mysterious slope, at the pale, thin mist far below.
"I should like to go down," said the doctor, looking longingly at the
great hollow; "but it won't do; there's the getting back, and I should
be such a loss to the scientific world. Hallo! here's another."
He pointed to the clearly-seen figure of a man underneath the ice, and
the men, having now become familiar to such sights, set to laughingly,
and were saved much trouble, for the ice cracked away from the figure,
and after a few strokes they were able to lift the body out, and lay it
in the sun, where, before many minutes had passed, it made the motion of
taking snuff, and then ejaculated--
"Declare to goodness!"
"Take a nip, mate," said Abram Bostock, handing a tot of rum; but the
figure waved it away.
"Who are you?" said the doctor. "How did you get here? Don't say
you've already discovered the North Pole."
"Pole? North Pole?" said the figure, sleepily. "I know nothing about
the North Pole. No, indeed!"
"Well, who are you?" said the doctor. "Come, give us a scientific
account;" and the stranger began.