confounded than he had ever been in all his blameless life.
"Ernest Molyneux, div ye kin whar ye 'ill go to if ye tell lees."
"I'm telling the t-truth, Speug, and I never tell lies, but sometimes I
compose t-tales. Lop-ear rabbits, and he feeds them himself."
"Will ye say 'as sure as death'?"--for this was with us the final test
of truth.
"As sure as death," said Nestie, and that afternoon Speug had so much to
think about that he gave almost no heed when Bulldog discovered him with
nothing on the sheet before him except a remarkably correct drawing of
two lop-eared rabbits.
Speug and Nestie crossed the North Meadow together after school, and
before they parted at the bridge Nestie entreated the favour of a visit
in his new home that evening from Speug; but, although modesty was not
Speug's prevailing characteristic, he would on no account accept the
flattering invitation. Maybe he was going to drive with his father, who
was breaking-in a new horse, or maybe he was going out on the river in a
boat, or maybe the stable gates were to be shut and the fox turned loose
for a run, or maybe----
[Illustration: "NESTIE WHISPERED SOMETHING IN SPEUG'S EAR."]
"Maybe you are going to learn your l-lessons, Speug, for once in your
life," said Nestie, who, his head on one side, was studying Speug's
embarrassment.
"A'm to do naething o' the kind," retorted Speug, turning a dark red at
this insult. "Nane o' yir impidence."
"Maybe you're f-frightened to come," said Nestie, and dodged at the same
time behind a lamp-post. "Why, Speug, I didn't know you were
f-frightened of anything."
"Naither I am," said Speug stoutly; "an' if it had been Jock Howieson
said that, I'd black his eyes. What sud I be frightened of, ye miserable
little shrimp?"
"Really, I don't know, Speug," said Nestie; "but just let me g-guess. It
might be climbing the hill; or did you think you might meet one of the
'Pennies,' and he would fight you; or, Speug--an idea occurs to me--do
you feel as if you did not want to spend an hour--just a nice, quiet
hour--all alone with Bulldog? You and he are such f-friends, Speug, in
the Seminary. Afraid of Bulldog? Speug, I'm ashamed of you, when poor
little me has to live with him now every day."
"When I get a grip o' you, Nestie Molyneux, I'll learn ye to give me
chat. I never was afraid of Bulldog, and I dinna care if he chases me
round the garden wi' a stick, but I'm no coming."
"You _are_ afraid, Speug; you _dare_ not come." And Nestie kept
carefully out of Speug's reach.
"You are a liar," cried Speug. "I'll come up this very night at seven
o'clock, but I'll no come in unless ye're at the garden door."
Speug had fought many pitched battles in his day, and was afraid neither
of man nor beast, but his heart sank within him for the first time in
his life when he crossed the bridge and climbed the hill to the
residence of Mr. Dugald MacKinnon. Nothing but his pledged word, and a
reputation for courage which must not be tarnished, since it rested on
nothing else, brought him up the lane to Bulldog's door. He was before
his time, and Nestie had not yet come to meet him, and he could allow
his imagination to picture what was within the walls, and what might
befall his unfortunate self before he went down that lane again. His one
consolation and support was in the lop-eared rabbits; and if it were the
case, as Nestie had sworn with an oath which never had been broken at
the Seminary, that there were rabbits within that dreadful enclosure,
there was hope for him; for if he knew about anything, he knew about
rabbits, and if anyone had to do with rabbits--and although it was
incredible, yet had not Nestie sworn it with an oath?--there must be
some bowels of mercy even in Bulldog. Speug began to speculate whether
he might not be able, with Nestie's loyal help, to reach the rabbits and
examine thoroughly into their condition, and escape from the garden
without a personal interview with its owner; and at the thought thereof
Speug's heart was lifted. For of all his exploits which had delighted
the Seminary, none, for its wonder and daring, its sheer amazingness,
could be compared with a stolen visit to Bulldog's rabbits. "Nestie," he
murmured to himself, as he remembered that little Englishman's prodigal
imagination, "is a maist extraordinary leear, but he said 'as sure as
death.'"
"Why, Speug, is that you? You ought to have opened the door. Come along
and shake hands with the master; he's just l-longing to see you." And
Speug was dragged along the walk between the gooseberry bushes, which in
no other circumstances would he have passed unnoticed, and was taken up
to be introduced with the air of a dog going to execution. He heard
someone coming down the walk, and he lifted up his eyes to know the
worst, and in that moment it appeared as if reason had deserted the
unhappy Speug. It was the face of Bulldog, for the like of that
countenance could not be found on any other man within the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Yes, it was Bulldog, and that
Speug would be prepared to swear in any court of justice. The nose and
the chin, and the iron-grey whiskers and hair, and above all those
revolving eyes. There could not be any mistake. But what had happened to
Bulldog's face, for it was like unto that of another man? The sternness
had gone out of it, and--there was no doubt about it--Bulldog was
smiling, and it was an altogether comprehensive and irresistible smile.
It had taken the iron lines out of his face and shaped his lips to the
kindliest curve, and deprived his nose of its aggressive air, and robbed
the judicial appearance of his whiskers, and it had given him--it was a
positive fact--another pair of eyes. They still revolved, but not now
like the guns in the turret of a monitor dealing destruction right and
left. They were shining and twinkling like the kindly light from a
harbour tower. There never was such a genial and humoursome face, so
full of fun and humanity, as that which looked down on the speechless
Speug. Nor was that all; it was a complete transformation. Where were
the pepper-and-salt trousers and the formal black coat and vest, which
seemed somehow to symbolise the inflexible severity of Bulldog's reign?
and the hat, and the gloves, and the stick--what had become of his
trappings? Was there ever such a pair of disreputable old slippers, down
at the heel, out at the sides, broken at the seams, as those that
covered the feet of Bulldog in that garden. The very sight of those
slippers, with their suggestion of slackness and unpunctuality and
ignorance of all useful knowledge and general Bohemianism, was the first
thing which cheered the heart of Speug. Those slippers would tolerate no
problems from Euclid and would laugh a cane to scorn. Where did he ever
get those trousers, and from whose hands did they originally come,
baggy at the knee and loose everywhere, stained with garden mould and
torn with garden bushes?
[Illustration: "SPEUG WAS DRAGGED ALONG THE WALK."]
Without question it was a warm night in that sheltered place on the side
of the hill; but would any person believe that the master of
mathematics, besides writing and arithmetic, in Muirtown Seminary, was
going about in his garden, and before the eyes of two of his pupils,
without the vestige of a waistcoat. Speug now was braced for wonders,
but even he was startled with Bulldog's jacket, which seemed of earlier
age than the trousers, with which it had no connexion in colour. It may
once have had four buttons, but only two were left now; there was a tear
in its side that must have been made by a nail in the garden wall, the
handle of a hammer projected from one pocket, and a pruning-knife from
the other. And if there was not a pipe in Bulldog's mouth, stuck in the
side of his cheek, "as sure as death!" There was a knife in his hand,
with six blades and a corkscrew and a gimlet and the thing for taking
the stones out of a horse's hoof--oath again repeated--and Bulldog was
trying the edge of the biggest blade upon his finger. Speug, now
ascending from height to height, was not surprised to see no necktie,
and would have been prepared to see no collar. He had now even a wild
hope that when he reached Bulldog's head it might be crowned with a
Highland bonnet, minus the tails; but instead thereof there was a hat,
possibly once a wide-awake, so bashed, and shapeless, and discoloured,
and worn so rakishly, partly on the back and partly on the side of his
head, that Speug was inwardly satisfied, and knew that no evil could
befall him in that garden.
"Speug, my mannie, how are ye?" said this amazing figure. "Ye've been
long of coming. There's something like a knife, eh!" and Bulldog opened
up the whole concern and challenged Speug to produce his knife, which
was not so bad after all, for it had six departments, and one of them
was a file, which was wanting in Bulldog's.
"Show the master your peerie, Speug," said Nestie. "It's split more tops
than any one in the school; it's a r-ripper," and Nestie exhibited its
deadly steel point with much pride, while Speug endeavoured to look
unconscious as the owner of this instrument of war.
"Dod, I'll have a try myself," said Bulldog. "It's many a year since
I've spun a top. Where's yir string?" and he strode up the walk winding
the top, and the boys behind looked at one another, while Nestie
triumphed openly.
"Are you frightened, Speug?" he whispered. "Ain't he great? And just you
wait; you haven't begun to see things yet, not h-half."
Upon the doorstep Bulldog spun the top with a right hand that had not
lost its cunning, but rather had been strengthened by much cane
exercise. "It's sleeping," he cried in huge delight. "If you dare to
touch it, pity you!" but no one wished to shorten its time, and the
three hung over that top with fond interest, as Bulldog timed the
performance with his watch, which he extricated from his trouser pocket.
"Ye're a judge of rabbits, Speug," said the master. "I would like to
have yir advice," and as they went down through the garden they halted
at a place, and the robins came and sat on Bulldog's shoulder and took
crumbs out of his hand, and a little further on the thrushes bade him
welcome, and he showed the boys where the swallows had built every year,
and they also flew round his head.
"If ye dinna meddle with them, the birds 'ill no be afraid o' you, will
they, Dandie?" and the old terrier which followed at his heels wagged
his tail and indicated that he also was on good terms with every living
thing in the garden.
No one in the Seminary ever could be brought to believe it, even
although Speug tried to inculcate faith with his fists, that Bulldog had
carried out a litter of young rabbits in his hat for inspection, and
that, before the three of them laid themselves out for a supper of
strawberries, Speug had given to his master the best knowledge at his
command on the amount of green food which might be given with safety to
a rabbit of adult years, and had laid it down with authority that a
moderate amount of tea-leaves and oatmeal might be allowed as an
occasional dainty.
After the attack on the strawberries, in which Speug greatly
distinguished himself, and Bulldog urged him on with encouraging words,
they had tarts and lemonade in the house, where not a sign of cane or
tawse could be found. Bulldog drew the corks himself, and managed once
to drench Speug gloriously, whereat that worthy wiped his face with his
famous red handkerchief and was inordinately proud, while Nestie
declared that the thing had been done on purpose, and Bulldog threatened
him with the tawse for insulting his master.
"Div ye think, Speug, ye could manage a piece of rock before ye go," and
Bulldog produced the only rock that a Muirtown man will ever think worth
eating--Fenwick's own very best, thick, and pure, and rich, and
well-flavoured; and when Speug knew not whether to choose the
peppermint, that is black and white, or the honey rock, which is brown
and creamy, or the cinnamon, which in those days was red outside and
white within, his host insisted that he should take a piece of each, and
they would last him till he reached his home.
"Speug," and Bulldog bade farewell to his pupil at the garden gate,
"ye're the most aggravating little scoundrel in Muirtown Seminary, and
the devilry that's in you I bear witness is bottomless; but ye're fine
company, and ye 'ill, maybe, be a man yet, and Nestie and me will be
glad to see ye when ye're no engaged with yir study. Ye 'ill no forget
to come, Peter."
Peter's tongue, which had been wagging freely among the rabbits, again
forsook him, but he was able to indicate that he would seize an early
opportunity of again paying his respects to Mr. Dugald MacKinnon in his
own home; and when Bulldog thrashed him next day for not having prepared
an exercise the night before, the incident only seemed to complete
Speug's pride and satisfaction.
THE DISGRACE OF MR. BYLES
VI
Bulldog's southern assistant had tried the patience of the Seminary by
various efforts to improve its mind and manners, but when he proposed at
the beginning of the autumn term to occupy Saturdays with botanical
excursions to Kilspindie Woods, which, as everybody knows, are three
miles from Muirtown, and a paradise of pheasants, it was felt that if
there was any moral order in the universe something must happen. From
the middle of September, when the school opened, on to the beginning of
October, when football started, our spare time was given to kites, which
we flew from the North Meadow in the equinoctial gales gloriously. Speug
had one of heroic size, with the figure of a dragon upon it painted in
blue and yellow and red--the red for the fire coming out of his
mouth--and a tail of eight joints, ending in a bunch of hay fastened
with a ribbon. None but a sportsman like Speug could have launched the
monster from the ground--bigger than Peter by a foot--and nursed it
through the lower spaces till it caught the wind, and held it in the
higher as it tore upwards and forwards till the dragon was but the size
of a man's hand in the clear autumn sky. Then Peter would lie down upon
his back, with his hands below his head, and the stick with the kite
string beneath his feet, and gaze up at the speck above, with an
expression so lifted above this present world that a circle of juniors
could only look at him with silent admiration and speculate whether they
would ever become so good and great.
It must not be thought, however, that kite-flying was chiefly done upon
your back, for it gave endless opportunities for intricate manoeuvres
and spectacular display. When Peter was in the vein he would collect
twelve mighties--each with a kite worth seeing--and bringing the kites
low enough for the glory of their size and tails to be visible they
would turn and wheel and advance and retire, keeping line and distance
with such accuracy that Sergeant McGlashan would watch the review with
keen interest and afterwards give his weighty approval. Then the band
would work their way up to the head of the Meadow in the teeth of a
north-wester, and forming in line, with half a dozen yards between each
boy, would let the kites go and follow them at the run as the kites tore
through the air and almost pulled their owners' arms out of the sockets.
It was so fine a demonstration that the women bleaching their clothes
would pick up half a dozen of the goodman's shirts to let Speug keep his
course--knowing very well that he would have kept it otherwise over the
shirts--and golfers, who expect everyone to get out of their way on pain
of sudden death, would stop upon the putting green to see the kites go
down in the wind with the laddies red-faced and bareheaded at their
heels. If the housewives shook their heads as they spread out the shirts
on the grass again--weighing them down with clean stones that they might
not follow the kites--it was with secret delight, for there is no
wholesome woman who does not rejoice in a boy and regard his most
vexatious mischief with charity. And old Major MacLeod, the keenest of
golfers and the most touchy of Celts, declared that this condemned old
Island was not dead yet when it could turn out such a gang of sturdy
young ruffians. And it was instead of such a mighty ploy that Mr. Byles
proposed to take the Seminary for a botanical excursion.
It was in the mathematical class-room that Mr. Byles announced the new
departure, and, even if Bulldog had not been keeping watch with an
inscrutable countenance, the school was too much amazed to interrupt.
Having touched on the glories of the creation amid which we lived, Mr.
Byles pointed out, in what the newspapers call "neat and well-chosen
terms," that it was not enough to learn mathematics as they all did so
diligently--Jock Howieson's eye turned instinctively to Bulldog's
cane--but they must also know some natural science in order to become,
as he hoped they would, cultured men--Speug was just able to cast a
longing glance at Thomas John. That no pursuit was easier and more
delightful than botany, especially among wild flowers. That on Saturday
he proposed to go with as many as would join him to ransack the
treasures of Kilspindie Woods. That these woods were very rich, he
believed, in flowers, among which he mentioned wild geraniums--at which
the school began to recover and rustle. That the boys might dry the
geraniums and make books for Christmas presents with them, and that he
hoped to see a herbarium in the Seminary containing all the wild flowers
of the district. The school was now getting into good spirits, and
Bulldog allowed his eye to fall on Speug. That any boy who desired to
improve his mind was to put on his oldest suit and bring a bag to carry
the plants in and be in front of the Seminary at nine to-morrow. Then
Bulldog brought his cane down on the desk with energy and dismissed the
school, and Nestie told Peter that his mouth had begun to twitch.
Outside the school gathered together on the terrace around the Russian
guns, which was our Forum, and after five seconds' pause, during which
we gathered inspiration from each others' faces, a great shout of
laughter went up to the sky, full-toned, unanimous, prolonged. Any sense
of humour in the Seminary was practical, and Mr. Byles's botany class,
with expeditions, was irresistible.
"Geranniums!" cried Howieson, who was immensely tickled; "it cowes a'.
An' what was the ither flooer--'herbarries'? It's michty; it'ill be
poppies an' mustard seed next. Speug, ye'ill be making a book for a
present to Bulldog."
"Tak care o' yirsel," Bauldie shouted to the Dowbiggins, who were making
off, as mass meetings did not agree with them, "an' see ye dinna wet yir
feet or dirty yir hands. Ye'ill get yir wheeps at home if ye do. Give us
a bit o' Byles, Nestie," and then there was instant silence, for Nestie
had a nice little trick of mimicry which greatly endeared him to a
school where delicate gifts were rare.
"S-silence, if you please," and Nestie held up his hand with Mr. Byles's
favourite polite deprecating gesture. "I hear a smile. Remember, d-dear
boys, that this is a serious s-subject. Do p-please sit quiet, Peter
McGuffie; your fidgetin' is very t-tryin' indeed, and I 'ope, I mean
h-hope, you will make an effort to l-learn. This, my l-lads, is a common
object of Nature which I 'old, that is hold, in my h-hands--Howieson, I
must ask you not to annoy Thomas John Dowbiggin--the c-colour is a
lovely gold, and yet--no talking, if you please, it is r-rude--we pass
it every day without n-notice. Each boy may take a dandelion h-home to
his sister. Now go hout ... or rather out, quietly."
"Gosh, it's just Byles to the ground!" cried Bauldie; and Johnston
passed a half stick of gundy to Nestie to refresh him after his labours.
"Are ony o' you chaps goin'? It wud be worth seein' Byles traking thro'
the Kilspindie Woods, with thae bleatin' sheep o' Dowbiggins at his
heels, carryin' an airmful o' roots and sic like."
"You'ill no catch me tramping oot at the tail o' Byles and a litter o'
Dowbiggins!"--and Jock was very emphatic. "Dod, it'ill just be like a
procession o' MacMuldrow's lassies, two and two, and maybe airm in
airm!"
This fearful and malignant suggestion settled the matter for the
Seminary, as a score of its worthies marching across the bridge in the
interests of science, like a boarding-school, would be a scandal for
ever. So it was agreed that a body of sympathisers should see the Byles
expedition off next morning, and then hold a field day of kites in the
meadow.
The deterioration of the best is the worst, and that means that when a
prim, conventional, respectable man takes in his head to dress as a
Bohemian, the effect will be remarkable. Byles had been anxious to show
that he could be quite the gay rustic when he pleased, and he was got up
in a cap, much crushed, and a grey flannel shirt, with a collar
corresponding, and no tie, and a suit of brown tweeds, much stained with
futile chemical experiments. He was also equipped with a large canvas
bag, slung over his shoulder, and a hammock net, which he explained
could be slung from a tree and serve as a resting-place if it were damp
beneath. The Dowbiggins had entered into the spirit of the thing, and
were in clothes reserved for their country holidays. They had each an
umbrella, large and bulgy, and altogether were a pair of objects to whom
no one would have lent a shilling. Cosh, whose attack on Nestie made him
a social outcast, had declared himself a convert to natural science, and
was sucking up to Byles, and two harmless little chaps, who thought that
they would like to know something about flowers, made up the Botanical
Society.
They were a lonely little group standing on the terrace, while Mr. Byles
was securing a trowel and other instruments of war from his room, but a
large and representative gathering of the Seminary did their best to
cheer and instruct them.
Howieson insisted that the bottle of milk which bulged from the bag of
the younger Dowbiggin contained spirituous liquors, and warned the two
juniors to keep clear of him and to resist every temptation to drinking.
He also expressed an earnest hope that a rumour flying round the school
about tobacco was not true. But the smell on Dowbiggin's clothes was
horrid. Cosh was affectionately exhorted to have a tender care of his
health and personal appearance, not to bully Lord Kilspindie's
gamekeepers, nor to put his foot into a steel trap, nor to meddle with
the rabbits, nor to fall into the Tay, but above all things not to tell
lies.
Thomas John was beset with requests--that he would leave a lock of his
hair in case he should not return, that he would mention the name of the
pawn-broker from whom he got his clothes, that he would bring home a
bouquet of wild flowers for Bulldog, that he would secure a supply of
turnips to make lanterns for Halloween, that he would be kind to Mr.
Byles and see that he took a rest in his net, that he would be careful
to gather up any "h's" Mr. Byles might drop on the road, and that he
should not use bad language under any circumstances.
"Never mind what those boys say, Thomas," said Mr. Byles, who had come
out in time to catch the last exhortation: "it is far better to
himprove, I mean cultivate, the mind than to fly kites like a set of
children; but we all hope that you will have a nice fly, don't we,
boys?" And sarcasm from so feeble a quarter might have provoked a
demonstration had not Byles and his flock been blotted out by an amazing
circumstance. As the botanists started, Speug, who had maintained an
unusual silence all morning, joined the body along with Nestie, and gave
Mr. Byles to understand that he also was hungering for scientific
research. After their friends had recovered themselves they buzzed round
the two, who were following the Dowbiggins with an admirable affectation
of sedateness, but received no satisfaction. Speug contented himself
with warning off a dozen henchmen who had fallen in by him with the idea
of forming a mock procession, and then giving them a wink of
extraordinary suggestiveness. But Nestie was more communicative, and
explained the situation at length----