caused in the front ranks of the Pennies was a chance for Speug, who
gave the signal for the charge and made himself directly for the leader
of the Pennies. No pen at this distance of time can describe the
conflict between the two leaders, who fired forth balls at each other at
close distance, every one going to its mark, and one leaving an
indelible impress upon Speug's ingenuous forehead. They then came to
close grip, and there was a tussle, for which both had been waiting for
many a day. From fists, which were not quite ineffectual, they fell upon
wrestling, and here it seemed that Redhead must have the advantage, for
he was taller in stature and more sinuous in body. During the wrestle
there was something like a lull in the fighting, and both Pennies and
Seminaries, now close together, held their hands till Speug, with a
cunning turn of the leg that he had been taught by an English groom in
his father's stable, got the advantage, and the two champions came down
in the snow, Redhead below. The Seminaries set up a shout of triumph,
and the scouts running to and fro with the balls behind joined in with,
"Well done, Speug!"
Speug had all the instincts of a true general and was not the man to
spend his time in unprofitable exultation. It was a great chance to take
the Pennies when they were without their leader and discomfited by his
fall, and in an instant Speug was up, driving his way through the midst
of the enemy, who were now divided in the centre, whilst Johnston and
Bauldie had crept up by the side of the houses on either side and were
attacking them in parallel lines. MacFarlane and Mackenzie had come down
from the shed with their detachment and were busy in the rear of the
Seminaries. Redhead fought like a hero, but was almost helpless in the
confusion, and thought it the best strategy to make a rush to the clear
ground in the rear of his position, calling his followers after him; and
now the Pennies gathered at the far end of the street, beaten in tactics
and in fighting, but ever strong in heart, and full of insolence.
"That," said Speug, wiping his face with his famous red handkerchief
which he carried in his trousers pocket, and hastily attending to some
of his wounds, "that wesna' bad"; and then turning to Nestie, "Ye keepit
close, my mannie." Speug's officers, such mighties as Bauldie and
Johnston, MacFarlane and Mackenzie, all bearing scars, clustered round
their commander with expressions of admiration. "Yon was a bonny twirl,
and you coupit him weel." "Sall, they've gotten their licks," while
Speug modestly disclaimed all credit, and spoke generously of the
Pennies, declaring that they had fought well, and that Redhead nearly
got the mastery.
At that moment a shout of "Seminary!" was heard in the rear of the
Pennies, and Speug knew that Duncan Robertson had driven McIntyre's the
full length of the terrace and was now fighting them in Breadalbane
Street. "Forward!" cried Speug. "Dunc's on the back of them," and
Redhead at the same moment hurriedly withdrew his forces, covering his
retreat with a shower of balls, and united with McIntyre's, who were
retiring before Robertson and the second division of the Seminaries.
Amid cries of "Seminary! Seminary!" Speug and Duncan met where the back
street opens into Breadalbane Street, and their divisions amalgamated,
exchanging notes on the battle and examining one another's personal
appearance. There was not a bonnet to be seen, and not many jackets,
which had either been left behind or thrown off or torn off in personal
conflict with the Pennies; collars may have remained, but that no one
could tell, and there were some whose waistcoats were now held by one
button. Two or three also had been compelled to drop out of active
battle and were hanging in the rear, rubbing their faces with snow and
trusting to be able to see clear enough for the final charge; and still
the juniors were making their balls and had established a new magazine
at the end of the terrace. Several of these impenitent little wretches
had themselves been in the thick of the fight, and could be seen
pointing proudly to a clout on the forehead and a cut on the lip. What a
time certain mothers would have that evening when their warriors came
home, some of them without caps, which would never be recovered, most of
them with buttonless waistcoats and torn jackets, half of them with
disfigured faces, all of them drenched to the skin, and every one of
them full of infinite satisfaction and gladness of heart! Their fathers,
who had heard about the battle before they came home and had not failed
to discover who had won, being all Seminary lads themselves, would also
be much lifted, but would feign to be extremely angry at the savagery
of their boys, would wonder where the police were, would threaten their
sons with all manner of punishments if this ever happened again, and
would declare their intention of laying a complaint before the chief
constable. As, however, it was absolutely necessary in the interests of
justice that the whole facts should be known before they took action,
they would skilfully extract the whole Homeric narrative, with every
personal conflict and ruse of war, from their sons, and only when the
last incident had been related would announce their grave and final
displeasure.
As for the police, who were not numerous in Muirtown, and who lived on
excellent good terms with everybody, except tramps, they seemed to have
a prophetic knowledge when a snow-fight was coming on, and were detained
by important duty in distant streets. It was always, however, believed
by the Seminary that two of the police could be seen, one at the
distance of the bridge over the Tay, the other at the far extremity of
Breadalbane Street, following the fight with rapt attention, and in the
case of the Pennies winning, which had been their own school, smacking
their lips and slapping their hands under pretence of warming themselves
in the cold weather, and in the event of the Seminaries winning marching
off in opposite directions, lest they should be tempted to interfere,
which they would have considered contrary to the rules of fair play,
and giving their own school a mean advantage. Perhaps some ingenuous
modern person will ask, "What were the masters of the Seminary about
during this hour?" The Rector was sitting by the fire in his
retiring-room, reading a winter ode of Horace, and as faint sounds of
war reached his ears he would stir the fire and lament, like the quiet
old scholar that he was, that Providence had made him ruler of such a
band of barbarians; but he would also cherish the hope that his
barbarians would not come off second. As for Bulldog, his mind was torn
between two delights--the anticipation of the exercise which he would
have next day, and the pleasure which his lads were having to-day--and
nothing more entirely endeared Bulldog to his savages than the fact
that, instead of going home to dinner during this hour, which was his
usual custom, he contented himself with a biscuit. He was obliged to buy
it in a baker's shop in Breadalbane Street, from which he could command
a perfect view of the whole battle, especially as he happened to stand
in the doorway of the shop, and never returned to school till the crisis
of war was over. He was careful to explain to the school that he had
himself gone for the purpose of identifying the ringleaders in mischief,
and it was on such an occasion that Speug, keeping his right cheek
immovable towards Bulldog, would wink to the assembled school with
irresistible effect.
Nor ought one to forget the janitor of Muirtown Seminary, who had been a
sergeant in the Black Watch and had been wounded three times in the
Crimean War. His orders, as given by the Rector and reinforced by all
law-abiding parents, were to prevent any boy of the Seminary leaving the
school for the purpose of a snowball fight, and should such an
unfortunate affair take place he was directed to plunge into the midst
and by force of arm to bring the Seminaries home to their own fireside,
leaving rough and rude schools like the Pennies and McIntyre's to fight
at their wicked will. For did not the Seminary lads move in polite
society, except Speug, and were they not going to be, as they have
become, clergymen and lawyers, and physicians, to say nothing of bailies
on the bench and elders of the Kirk? These orders Sergeant Dougal
McGlashan carried out, not so much in the bondage of the letter as in
the fulness of the spirit. Many were the conversations which Speug and
he had together in anticipation of the snow time, when you may believe
if you please that that peaceable man was exhorting Speug to obedience
and gentleness, or if you please that he was giving the commander of the
Seminary certain useful hints which he himself had picked up from the
"red line" at Balaclava. Certain it is that when the Seminaries went out
that day in battle array the sergeant was engaged mending the fires with
great diligence, so that he was not able to see them depart. Afterwards
it was the merest duty for him to stand at the end of the passage of
victory, lest the Pennies or any other person should venture on another
outrage; and if he was late in calling his boys back from Breadalbane
Street, that was only because the cold had made his wounds to smart
again, and he could only follow them in the rear till the battle was
over. When the evil was done there was no use of vain regret, and in the
afternoon the sergeant stood beside the big fire and heard accounts of
the battle from one and another, and then he would declare that there
were lads in Muirtown Seminary who would have done well at Inkermann and
the storming of the Redan.
Breadalbane Street, which was broad and straight, with the back road to
the Seminary on the right hand, and the street to McIntyre's and the
Pennies on the left, had been the battle-ground of generations, for it
gave opportunity for deploying in divisions, for front attack and for
flank, as well as for royal charges which extended across the street.
McIntyres and Pennies had been recruited from their several schools and
supplied afresh with ammunition. Redhead took command of the united
force and arranged them across the street in his favourite wedge, with
the base resting on the home street, and this time he gave the signal,
and so impetuous was their charge that they drove their way almost
through the ranks of the Seminaries, and Speug himself, through sheer
weight of attack, was laid flat in the middle of the street. Robertson
and his officers rallied their forces, but it was possible that the
Seminaries might have lost the day had it not been for the masterly
foresight of Speug and the opportune arrival of Jock Howieson. That
worthy had taken his division by a circuitous route, in which they had
been obstructed by a miserable Episcopal school which wanted a fight on
its own account and had to receive some passing attention. A little
late, Howieson reached the Cathedral, and then, judging it better not to
come down Breadalbane Street, where his attack would have been exposed,
he made his way on the right of the street by passages known only to
himself, and having supplied his division with ammunition from a
snow-drift in a back entry, he came into the home street, which was the
only line of retreat for the enemy, and cut them off from their base.
Leaving a handful of lads to prevent the scouts coming out from the
Pennies or the McIntyres with information, and driving before him the
ammunition train of the enemy, he came round into Breadalbane Street
with twenty-five tough fighters raging and fuming for the battle and
just in the nick of time. It was hard for any fighting man to have spent
something like half an hour wandering round circuitous streets and
holding ridiculous conflicts with unknown schools when the battle of
Waterloo, with the fate of the Empire of Muirtown, was hanging in the
balance.
Before Redhead had notice of the arrival of the new division they were
upon his rear, and a play of snowballs fell upon the back of the
Pennies. This was more than even veteran forces could endure, and in
spite of the heroic efforts of Redhead, who fired his balls alternately
back and forward, his forces fell into a panic. They broke and drove
their way through Howieson's division, receiving severe punishment from
balls fired at a distance of a few feet, and then, in spite of the
efforts of their officers, who fought till they were black and blue, but
chiefly red, the enemy rushed down the home street and, sweeping the
rearguard of Howieson's before them like straws in a stream, made for
their respective schools. The Seminaries in one united body, headed by
the three commanders and attended by the whole junior school, visited
the Pennies' school first, whose gates were promptly closed, and having
challenged the Pennies with opprobrious words to come out and fight like
men--Redhead being offered the chance of single combat with Dunc or
Speug or Jock Howieson--the Seminaries then made their way to McIntyre's
Academy. As this unfortunate place of learning had no gate, Speug led
the Seminaries into the centre of their courtyard, McIntyre's boys
having no spirit left in them and being now hidden in the class-rooms.
As they would not come out, in spite of a shower of courteous
invitations, Speug stood in the centre of their courtyard and called the
gods to witness that it had been a fair fight and that the Seminaries
had won. A marvellous figure was he, without bonnet, without collar,
without tie, without jacket, without waistcoat, with nothing on him but
a flannel shirt and those marvellous horsey trousers, but glorious in
victory. Taking a snowball from Nestie, who was standing by his side,
openly and in face of McIntyre's masters, gathered at a window, he sent
it with unerring aim through the largest pane of glass in McIntyre's own
room. "That," said Speug, "'ill tell ye the Seminaries have been here."
Then he collected his forces and led them home down the cross street and
into Breadalbane Street, down the middle of Breadalbane Street, and
round the terrace, and in by the front door into the Seminary. As they
came down they sang, "Scots wha hae," and the juniors, who had rushed on
before, met them at the door and gave three cheers, first for Speug,
then for Dunc, and then for Jock Howieson, which homage and tribute of
victory Speug received with affected contempt but great pride of heart.
In order to conceal his feelings he turned to his faithful henchman,
little Nestie Molyneux, who, always a delicate-looking little laddie,
was now an altogether abject spectacle, with torn clothes, dripping
hair, and battered face. "Nestie," said Speug, in hearing of the whole
school, "ye're a plucky little deevil," and although since then he has
been in many places and has had various modest triumphs, that still
remains the proudest moment in Nestie Molyneux's life.
HIS PRIVATE CAPACITY
V
It is well enough for popular rulers like presidents to live in public
and shake hands with every person; but absolute monarchs, who govern
with an iron hand and pay not the slightest attention to the public
mind, ought to be veiled in mystery. If Bulldog had walked homeward with
his boys in an affectionate manner, and inquired after their sisters,
like his temporary assistant, Mr. Byles, or had played with interesting
babies on the North Meadow, as did Topp, the drawing-master--Augustus de
Lacy Topp--who wore a brown velvet jacket and represented sentiment in a
form verging on lunacy; or if he had invited his classes to drink coffee
in a very shabby little home, as poor Moossy did, and treated them to
Beethoven's Symphonies, then even Jock Howieson, the stupidest lad in
the Seminary, would have been shocked, and would have felt that the
Creation was out of gear. The last thing we had expected of Bulldog was
polite conversation, or private hospitality. His speech was confined to
the class-room, and there was most practical; and his hospitality,
which was generous and widespread, was invariably public. His _rôle_ was
to be austere, unapproachable, and lifted above feeling, and had it not
been for Nestie he had sustained it to the day of his death.
Opinion varied about Bulldog's age, some insisting that he had
approached his century, others being content with "Weel on to eighty."
None hinted at less than seventy. No one could remember his coming to
Muirtown, and none knew whence he came. His birthplace was commonly
believed to be the West Highlands, and it was certain that in dealing
with a case of aggravated truancy he dropped into Gaelic. Bailie
McCallum used to refer in convivial moments to his schooldays under
Bulldog, and always left it to be inferred that had it not been for that
tender, fostering care, he had not risen to his high estate in Muirtown.
Fathers of families who were elders in the kirk, and verging on grey
hair, would hear no complaints of Bulldog, for they had passed under the
yoke in their youth, and what they had endured with profit--they now
said--was good enough for their children. He seemed to us in those days
like Melchizedek, without father or mother, beginning or end of days;
and now that Bulldog has lain for many a year in a quiet Perthshire
kirkyard, it is hardly worth while visiting Muirtown Seminary.
Every morning, except in vacation, he crossed the bridge at 8.45, with
such rigid punctuality that the clerks in the Post Office checked the
clock by him, and he returned by the way he had gone, over the North
Meadow, at 4.15, for it was his grateful custom to close the
administration of discipline at the same hour as the teaching,
considering with justice that any of the Muirtown varlets would rather
take the cane than be kept in, where from the windows he could see the
North Meadow in its greenness, and the river running rapidly on an
afternoon. It would have been out of place for Bulldog to live in a
Muirtown street, where he must have been overlooked and could not have
maintained his necessary reserve. Years ago he had built himself a house
upon the slope of the hill which commanded Muirtown from the other side
of the river. It was a hill which began with wood and ended in a lofty
crag; and even from his house, halfway up and among the trees, Bulldog
could look down upon Muirtown, compactly built together on the plain
beneath, and thinly veiled in the grey smoke which rose up lazily from
its homes. It cannot be truthfully said that Bulldog gave himself to
poetry, but having once varied his usual country holiday by a visit to
Italy, he ever afterwards declared at dinner-table that Muirtown
reminded him of Florence as you saw that city from Fiesole, with the
ancient kirk of St. John rising instead of the Duomo, and the Tay
instead of the Arno. He admitted that Florence had the advantage in her
cathedral, but he stoutly insisted that the Arno was but a poor,
shrunken river compared with his own; for wherever Bulldog may have been
born, he boasted himself to be a citizen of Muirtown, and always
believed that there was no river to be found anywhere like unto the Tay.
His garden was surrounded with a high wall, and the entrance was by a
wooden door, and how Bulldog lived within these walls no one knew, but
many had imagined. Speug, with two daring companions, had once traced
Bulldog home and seen him disappear through the archway, and then it was
in their plan to form a ladder one above the other, and that Peter, from
the top thereof, should behold the mysterious interior and observe
Bulldog in private life; but even Speug's courage failed at the critical
moment, and they returned without news to the disappointed school.
Pity was not the characteristic of Seminary life in those days, but the
hardest heart was touched with compassion when Nestie Molyneux lost his
father and went to stay with Bulldog. The Seminary rejoiced in their
master; but it was with trembling, and the thought of spending the
evening hours and all one's spare time in his genial company excited our
darkest imagination. To write our copy-books and do our problems under
Bulldog's eye was a bracing discipline which lent a kind of zest to
life, but to eat and drink with Bulldog was a fate beyond words.
As it was an article of faith with us that Bulldog was never perfectly
happy except when he was plying the cane, it was taken for granted that
Nestie would be his solitary means of relaxation, from the afternoon of
one day to the morning of the next, and when Nestie appeared, on the
third morning after his change of residence, the school was waiting to
receive him.
His walking across the meadow by Bulldog's side, with his hands in his
pockets, talking at his ease and laughing lightly, amazed us on first
sight, but did not count for much, because we considered this manner a
policy of expediency and an act of hypocrisy. After all, he was
only doing what every one of us would have done in the same
circumstances--conciliating the tyrant and covering his own sufferings.
We kept a respectful distance till Nestie parted with his guardian, and
then we closed in round him and licked our lips, for the story that
Nestie could tell would make any Indian tale hardly worth the reading.
Babel was let loose, and Nestie was pelted with questions which came in
a fine confusion from many voices, and to which he was hardly expected
to give an immediate answer.
"What like is the cane he keeps at home?" "Has Bulldog tawse in the
house?" "Div ye catch it regular?" "Does he come after you to your
bedroom?" "Have ye onything to eat?" "Is the garden door locked?" "Could
ye climb over the wall if he was thrashing you too sore?" "Did he let
ye bring yir rabbits?" "Have ye to work at yir lessons a' night?" "What
does Bulldog eat for his dinner?" "Does he ever speak to you?" "Does he
ever say onything about the school?" "Did ye ever see Bulldog sleeping?"
"Are ye feared to be with him?" "Would the police take ye away if he was
hurting ye?" "Is there ony other body in the house?" "Would he let ye
make gundy (candy) by the kitchen fire?" "Have ye to work all night at
yir books?" "Does he make ye brush his boots?" "What do ye call him in
the house?" "Would ye call him Bulldog for a shilling's-worth of gundy
if the garden gate was open?" "Has he ony apples in the garden?" "Would
ye daur to lay a finger on them?" "How often have ye to wash yir hands?"
"Would ye get yir licks if yir hair wasna brushed?" And then Speug
interfered, and commanded silence that Nestie might satisfy the
curiosity of the school.
"Haud yir blethering tongues!" was his polite form of address. "Noo,
Nestie, come awa' wi' yir evidence. What like is't to live wi' Bulldog?"
"It's awfully g-good of you fellows to ask how I'm getting on with
Bully," and Nestie's eyes lit up with fun, for he'd a nice little sense
of humour, and never could resist the temptation of letting it play upon
our slow-witted, matter-of-fact intellects. "And I declare you seem to
know all about what h-happens. I'll j-just tell you something about it,
but it'll make you creepy," and then all the circle gathered in round
Nestie. "I have to rise at five in the morning, and if I'm not down at
half-past, Bulldog comes for me with a c-cane" (Howieson at this point
rubbed himself behind gently). "Before breakfast we have six 'p-props'
from Euclid and two vulgar f-fractions" (a groan from the school): "for
breakfast we've porridge and milk, and I have to keep time with
Bulldog--one, two, three, four--with the spoonfuls. He's got the c-cane
on the table." ("Gosh" from a boy at the back, and general sympathy.)
"He has the t-tawse hung in the lobby so as to be handy." ("It cowes
all.") "There are three regular c-canings every day, one in the morning,
and one in the afternoon, and one before you go to bed." At this point
Speug, who had been listening with much doubt to Nestie's account, and
knew that he had a luxuriant imagination, interfered.
"Nestie," he said, "ye're an abandoned little scoundrel, and ye're
telling lees straicht forward," and the school went into the class-room
divided in opinion. Some were suspicious that Nestie had been feeding
their curiosity with highly spiced meat, but others were inclined to
believe anything of Bulldog's household arrangements. During the hour
Speug studied Nestie's countenance with interest, and in the break he
laid hold of that ingenious young gentleman by the ear and led him apart
into a quiet corner, where he exhorted him to unbosom the truth. Nestie
whispered something in Speug's ear which shook even that worthy's
composure.
"Did ye say rabbits?"