dress and occupation in private life--and on this subject Nestie and
Speug told fearful lies--he exhibited the most exasperating regularity
in public, from his copper-plate handwriting to his speckless dress, but
especially by an inhuman and absolutely sinful punctuality. No one with
a heart within him and some regard to the comfort of his fellow
creatures, especially boys, had any right to observe times and seasons
with such exactness. During all our time, except on the one great
occasion I wish to record, he was never known to be ill, not even with a
cold; and it was said that he never had been for a day off duty, even in
the generation before us. His erect, spare frame, without an ounce of
superfluous flesh, seemed impervious to disease, and there was a feeling
in the background of our minds that for any illness to have attacked
Bulldog would have been an act of impertinence which he would have known
how to deal with. It was firmly believed that for the last fifty
years--and some said eighty, but that was poetry--Bulldog had entered
his class-room every morning, except on Saturdays, Sundays, and
holidays, at 8.50, and was ready to begin work at the stroke of nine.
There was a pleasant story that in the days of our fathers there had
been such a fall of snow and so fierce a wind that the bridge had been
drifted up, and no one could cross that morning from the other side. The
boys from the south side of the town had brought news of the drift to
the school, and the earlier arrivals, who had come in hope of a
snow-fight, were so mightily taken with the news that they hurried to
the Muirtown end of the bridge to look at the drift, and danced with joy
at the thought that on the other side Bulldog was standing, for once
helpless and dismayed. Speug's father, true ancestor of such a son, had
shouted across the drift invitations for Bulldog to come over, secure in
the fact that he could not be seen across its height, and in the hope
that Bulldog would not know his voice. When they were weary celebrating
the event, and after a pleasant encounter with a hastily organised
regiment of message boys, the eager scholars sauntered along to the
school, skirmishing as they went, just to be ready for the midday fight
with the "Pennies." For the pure joy of it they opened the door of the
mathematical class-room, merely to see how it looked when Bulldog was
not there, and found that estimable teacher at his desk, waiting to
receive them with bland courtesy. Some said that he had stayed in
Muirtown all night, anticipating that drift, others that he had climbed
over it in the early morning, before Muirtown was awake; but it was
found out afterwards that he had induced old Duncan Rorison, the
salmon-fisher, to ferry him across the flooded river, that it took them
an hour to reach the Muirtown side, and that they had both been nearly
drowned in the adventure.
"Come in, my boys," was all that he said. "Ye're a little late, but the
roads are heavy this morning. Come to the fire and warm yir hands before
ye begin yir work. It's a fine day for mathematics," and Mr. McGuffie
senior used to tell his son with much relish that their hands were
warmed. The school was profoundly convinced that if necessary Bulldog
would be prepared to swim the river rather than miss a day in the
mathematical class-room.
It was a pleasant spring morning, and the "marble" season had just
begun, when Howieson, after a vicious and well-directed stroke which won
him three "brownies," inquired casually whether anybody had seen Bulldog
go in; for, notwithstanding the years which came and went, his passing
in was always an occasion. Everyone then recollected that he had not
been seen, but no one for a moment suggested that he had not arrived;
and even when the school trooped into the class-room and found Bulldog's
desk empty, there was no exhilaration and no tendency to take advantage
of the circumstances. No one knew where he might be lying in wait, and
from what quarter he might suddenly appear; and it was wonderful with
what docility the boys began to work under the mild and beneficent reign
of Mr. Byles, who had not at that time joined with the Dowbiggins in the
unlawful pursuit of game. As the forenoon wore on there was certainly
some curiosity, and Nestie was questioned as to Bulldog's whereabouts;
but it was understood to be a point of honour with Nestie, as a member
of his household, to give no information about Bulldog's movements, and
so the school were none the wiser. There was some wild talk during the
hour, and a dozen stories were afloat by afternoon. Next morning it was
boldly said that Bulldog was ill, and some, who did not know what truth
was, asserted that he was in bed, and challenged Nestie to deny the
slander. That ingenious young gentleman replied vaguely but politely,
and veiled the whole situation in such a mist of irrelevant detail that
the school went in for the second day to the class-room rejoicing with
trembling, and not at all sure whether Bulldog might not arrive in a
carriage and pair, possibly with a large comforter round his throat, but
otherwise full of spirits and perfectly fit for duty. It was only after
the twelve o'clock break and a searching cross-examination of Nestie
that the school could believe in the goodness of Providence, and felt
like the Children of Israel on the other bank of the Red Sea. Some were
for celebrating their independence in the North Meadow and treating Mr.
Byles with absolute contempt; but there were others who judged with some
acuteness that they could have the North Meadow any day, but they might
never again have a full hour in the mathematical class-room without
Bulldog. There seemed a certain fitness in holding the celebration amid
the scenes of labour and discipline, and the mathematical class went in
to wait on Mr. Byles's instruction in high spirits and without one
missing. It is true that the Dowbiggins showed for the first time some
reluctance in attending to their studies, but it was pointed out to them
in a very firm and persuasive way by Speug that it would be disgraceful
for them to be absent when Bulldog was ill, and that the class could not
allow such an act of treachery. Speug was so full of honest feeling that
he saw Thomas John safely within the door, and, since he threatened an
unreasonable delay, assisted him across the threshold from behind. There
is no perfectly full and accurate account extant of what took place
between twelve and one that day in the mathematical class-room, but what
may be called contributions to history oozed out and were gratefully
welcomed by the school. It was told how Bauldie, being summoned by Mr.
Byles to work a problem on the board, instead of a triangle drew a
fetching likeness of Mr. Byles himself, and being much encouraged by the
applause of the class, and having an artist's love of his work, thrust a
pipe into Mr. Byles's mouth (pictorially), and blacked one of Mr.
Byles's eyes (also pictorially), and then went to his seat with a sense
of modest worth. That Mr. Byles, through a want of artistic
appreciation, resented this Bohemian likeness of himself, and, moved by
a Philistine spirit, would have wiped it from the board; but the senior
members of the class would on no account allow any work by a young but
promising master to be lost, and succeeded in the struggle in wiping
Mr. Byles's own face with the chalky cloth. That Mr. Byles, instead of
entering into the spirit of the day, lost his temper and went to
Bulldog's closet for a cane; whereupon Speug, seizing the opportunity so
pleasantly afforded, locked Mr. Byles in that place of retirement, and
so kept him out of any further mischief for the rest of the hour. That
as Mr. Byles had been deposed from office on account of his incapacity,
and the place of mathematical master was left vacant, Speug was
unanimously elected to the position, and gave an address, from Bulldog's
desk, replete with popular humour. That as Thomas John did not seem to
be giving such attention to his studies as might have been expected,
Speug ordered that he be brought up for punishment, which was promptly
done by Bauldie and Howieson. That after a long review of Thomas John's
iniquitous career, Speug gave him the tawse with much faithfulness,
Bauldie seeing that Thomas John held out his hand in a becoming fashion;
then that unhappy young gentleman was sent to his seat with a warning
from Speug that this must never occur again. That Nestie, having
stealthily left the room, gave such an accurate imitation of Bulldog's
voice in the passage--"Pack of little fiddlers taking advantage of my
absence; but I'll warm them"--that there was an instantaneous rush for
the seats; and when the door opened and Nestie appeared, the
mathematical class-room was as quiet as pussy, and Speug was
ostentatiously working at a mathematical problem. There are men living
who look back on that day with modest, thankful hearts, finding in its
remembrance a solace in old age for the cares of life; and the scene on
which they dwell most fondly is Nestie, whose face had been whitened for
his abominable trick, standing on the top of Bulldog's desk, and singing
a school song with the manner of the Count and the accent of Moossy,
while Speug with a cane in his hand compelled Dowbiggin to join in the
chorus, and Byles could be heard bleating from the closet. Ah, me! how
soon we are spoiled by this sinful world, and lose the sweet innocence
of our first years! how poor are the rewards of ambition compared with
the simple pleasures of childhood!
It could not be expected that we should ever have another day as good
again, but everyone had a firm confidence in the originality of Speug
when it was a question of mischief. We gathered hopefully round the
Russian guns next morning--for, as I have said, the guns were our forum
and place of public address--and, while affecting an attitude of studied
indifference, we waited with desire to hear the plan of campaign from
our leader's lips. But Speug, like all great generals, was full of
surprises, and that morning he was silent and unapproachable. Various
suggestions were made for brightening the mathematical labours and
cheering up Mr. Byles, till at last Howieson, weary of their futility,
proposed that the whole class should go up to the top of the North
Meadow and bathe in the river, and then Speug broke silence.
"Ye may go to bathe if ye like, Jock, and Cosh may go with ye, and if
he's drowned it'll be no loss, nor, for that matter, if the half of ye
are carried down the river. For myself, I'm going to the mathematical
class, and if onybody meddles wi' Byles I'll fight him in the back yard
in the dinner-hour for half a dozen stone-gingers."
"Is there onything wrang with your head, Speug?" For the thought of
Peter busy with a triangle under the care and pastoral oversight of Mr.
Byles could only be explained in one way.
"No," replied Speug savagely, "nor with my fists, either. The fact
is----" And then Speug hesitated, realising amid his many excellences a
certain deficiency of speech for a delicate situation. "Nestie, what are
ye glowering at? Get up on the gun and tell them aboot--what ye told me
this meenut." And the school gathered in amazement round our pulpit, on
which Nestie stood quite unconcerned.
"It was very good fun-n yesterday, boys, but it won't do to-t-to-day.
Bully's very ill, and Doctor Manley is afraid that he may--d-die, and it
would be beastly bad form-m to be having larks when Bulldog
is--maybe----" And Nestie came down hurriedly from the gun and went
behind the crowd, while Speug covered his retreat in an aggressive
manner, all the more aggressive that he did not seem himself to be quite
indifferent.
Manley said it. Then every boy knew it must be going hard with Bulldog;
for there was not in broad Scotland a cleverer, pluckier, cheerier soul
in his great profession than John Manley, M.D., of Edinburgh, with half
a dozen honours of Scotland, England, and France. He had an insight into
cases that was almost supernatural, he gave prescriptions which nobody
but his own chemist could make up, he had expedients of treatment that
never occurred to any other man, and then he had a way with him that
used to bring people up from the gates of death and fill despairing
relatives with hope. His arrival in the sick room, a little man, with
brusque, sharp, straightforward manner, seemed in itself to change the
whole face of things and beat back the tides of disease. He would not
hear that any disease was serious, but he treated it as if it were; he
would not allow a gloomy face in a sick room, and his language to women
who began to whimper, when he got them outside the room, was such as tom
cats would be ashamed of; and he regarded the idea of any person below
eighty dying on his hands as a piece of incredible impertinence. All
over Perthshire country doctors in their hours of anxiety and perplexity
sent for Manley; and when two men like William McClure and John Manley
took a job in hand together, Death might as well leave and go to
another case, for he would not have a look in with those champions in
the doorway. English sportsmen in lonely shooting-boxes sent for the
Muirtown crack in hours of sudden distress, and then would go up to
London and swear in the clubs that there was a man down there in a
country town of Scotland who was cleverer than all the West End swell
doctors put together. He would not allow big names of diseases to be
used in his hearing, believing that the shadow killed more people than
the reality, and fighting with all his might against the melancholy
delight that Scots people have in serious sickness and other dreary
dispensations. When Manley returned one autumn from a week's holiday and
found the people of the North Free Kirk mourning in the streets over
their minister, because he was dying of diphtheria, and his young wife
asking grace to give her husband up if it were the will of God, Manley
went to the house in a whirlwind of indignation, declaring that to call
a sore throat diphtheria was a tempting of Providence, and that it was a
mere mercy that they hadn't got the real disease "just for a judgment."
It happened, however, that his treatment was exactly the same as that
for diphtheria, and although he remarked that he didn't know whether it
was necessary for him to come back again for such an ordinary case, he
did drop in by a series of accidents twice a day for more than a week;
and although no one dared to whisper it in his presence, there are
people who think to this day that the minister had diphtheria. As
Manley, however, insisted that it was nothing but a sore throat, the
minister felt bound to get better, and the whole congregation would have
thanked Manley in a body had it not been that he would have laughed
aloud. Many a boy remembered the day when he had been ill and sweating
with terror lest he should die--although he wouldn't have said that to
any living creature--and Manley had come in like a breeze of fresh air,
and declared that he was nothing but a "skulking young dog," with
nothing wrong about him, except the desire to escape for three days from
Bulldog.
"Well, Jimmie, ye don't deserve it, for you're the most mischievous
little rascal, except Peter McGuffie, in the whole of Muirtown; but I'll
give you three days in bed, and your mother will let you have something
nice to eat, and then out you go and back to the Seminary," and going
out of the door Manley would turn round and shake his fist at the bed,
"just a trick, nothing else." It might be three weeks before the boy was
out of bed, but he was never afraid again, and had some heart to fight
his disease.
Boys are not fools, and the Seminary knew that, if Manley had allowed
death to be even mentioned in connexion with Bulldog, it was more than
likely that they would never see the master of the mathematical
department again. And boys are a perfect absurdity, for--as sure as
death--they were not glad. Bulldog had thrashed them all, or almost
all, with faithfulness and perseverance, and some of them he had
thrashed many times; he had never petted any of them, and never more
than six times, perhaps, said a kind word to them in public. But that
morning, as they stood silent, awkward and angry, round the guns, there
is no doubt about it, the Seminary knew that it loved Bulldog. Never to
see his erect figure and stern face come across the North Meadow, never
to hear him say again from the desk, "Attention to your work, you little
fiddlers"; never to watch him promenading down between the benches,
overseeing each boy's task and stimulating the negligent on some tender
part of their bodies; never to be thrashed by him again! At the thought
of this calamity each boy felt bad in his clothes, and Speug, resenting
what he judged the impertinent spying of Cosh, threatened to punch his
head, and "learn Cosh to be watching him." As everybody knows, boys have
no sentiment and no feeling, so the collapse of that morning must be set
down to pure cussedness; but the school was so low that Byles ruled over
them without resistance, and might have thrashed them if he had so
pleased and had not ventured to use Bulldog's cane.
Had they not been boys, they would have called at Bulldog's to learn how
he was. Being boys, they avoided his name and pretended they were
indifferent; but when they met Manley on the bridge that afternoon, and
judged he had come from Bulldog's, they studied his face with the skill
of wild animals, and concluded each one for himself that things were
going badly with the master. They picked up every scrap of information
from their fathers in the evening, although they fiercely resented the
suggestion of their mothers that they would be concerned about "Mr.
MacKinnon's illness"--as if they cared whether a master were ill or
well, as if it were not better for them that he should be ill,
especially such an old brute as Bulldog. And the average mother was very
much disappointed by this lack of feeling, and said to her husband at
night that she had expected better things from Archibald; but if she had
gone suddenly into Bauldie's room--for that was his real name, Archibald
being only the thing given in baptism--she would have found that
truculent worthy sobbing aloud and covering his head with the blankets,
lest his elder brother, who slept in the same room, should hear him. You
have no reason to believe me, and his mother would not have believed me,
but--as sure as death--Bauldie was crying because Bulldog was sick unto
death.
Next morning Speug and a couple of friends happened by the merest
accident to be loitering at Bailie MacFarlane's shop window, and
examining with interest the ancient furniture exposed, at the very time
when that worthy magistrate came out and questioned Dr. Manley "How
things were going up-bye wi' the maister?"
"Not well, bailie, not well at all. I don't like the case; it looks bad,
very bad indeed, and I'm not a croaker. Disease is gone, and he's a
strong man, not a stronger in Muirtown than MacKinnon; but he has lost
interest in things, and isn't making an effort to get better; just lying
quiet and looking at you--says he's taking a rest, and if we don't get
him waked up, I tell you, Bailie, it will be a long one."
"Michty," said the Bailie, overcome with astonishment at the thought of
Bulldog dying, as it were, of gentleness.
"Yes, yes," said Manley; "but that's just the way with those strong,
healthy men, who have never known a day's sickness till they are old;
they break up suddenly. And he'll be missed. Bailie, Bulldog didn't
thrash you and me, else we would have been better men; but he has
attended to our boys."
"He has been verra conscientious," and the Bailie shook his head, sadly
mourning over a man who had laid down his life in discharge of
discipline. But the boys departed without remark, and Speug loosened the
strap of Bauldie's books, so that they fell in a heap upon the street,
whereat there was a brisk interchange of ideas, and then the company
went on its way rejoicing. So callous is a boy.
Nestie was not at school that day, and perhaps that was the reason that
Speug grew sulky and ill-tempered, taking offence if anyone looked at
him, and picking quarrels in the corridors, and finally disappearing
during the dinner-hour. It was supposed that he had broken bounds and
gone to Woody Island, that forbidden Paradise of the Seminary, and that
while the class was wasting its time with Byles, Peter was playing the
Red Indian. He did not deny the charge next day, and took an hour's
detention in the afternoon with great equanimity, but at the time he was
supposed to be stalking Indians behind the trees, and shooting them as
they floated down the river on a log, he was lying among the hay in his
father's stable, hidden from sight, and--as sure as death--Speug was
trying to pray for Bulldog.
The virtues of Mr. McGuffie senior were those of the natural man, and
Mr. McGuffie junior had never been present at any form of family
prayers, nor had he attended a Sunday-school, nor had he sat under any
minister in particular. He had no training in devotional exercises,
although he had enjoyed an elaborate education in profanity under his
father and the grooms, and so his form of prayer was entirely his own.
"God, I dinna ken how to call You, but they say Ye hear onybody. I'm
Peter McGuffie, but mebbe Ye will ken me better by Speug. I'm no' a good
laddie like Nestie, and I'm aye gettin' the tawse, but I'm awful fond of
Bulldog. Dinna kill Bulldog, God; dinna kill Bulldog! If Ye let him aff
this time I'll never say any bad words again--as sure as death--and I'll
never play truant, and I'll never slap Dowbiggin's face, and I'll never
steal birds' eggs, and I'll never set the terrier on the cats. I'll wash
my face and--my hands, too, and I'll go to the Sabbath-schule, and I'll
do onything Ye ask me if Ye'll let off Bulldog. For ony sake, dinna kill
Bulldog."
When Dr. Manley came out from the master's garden door that evening he
stumbled upon Speug, who was looking very miserable, but began to
whistle violently the moment he was detected, and denied that he had
come to ask for news.
"You did, you young limmer, and you needn't tell me lies, for I know
you, Speug, and your father before you. I wish I'd good news to give
you, but I haven't. I fear you've had your last thrashing from Bulldog."
For a moment Speug kicked at a stone on the road and thrust his hands
deep into his pockets; then the corners of his mouth began to twitch,
and turning round he hid his face upon the wall, while his tough little
body that had stood many a fight shook all over. Doctor Manley was the
first person that had seen Speug cry, and he stood over him to protect
him from the gaze of any wandering message boys who might come along the
lane. By and by Speug began to speak between his sobs.
"It was a lee, Doctor, for I did come up to ask, but I dinna like to
let on.... I heard ye say that ye couldna rouse Bulldog to take an
interest in onything, and I thought o' something."
"What was it, Speug?" and the doctor laid his hands on the boy's
shoulder and encouraged him to proceed. "I'll never tell, you may trust
me."
"Naething pleased Bulldog sae weel as givin' us a lickin'; if he juist
had a cane in his hands and a laddie afore him, Bulldog would sune be
himsel' again, and--there's no a laddie in schule he's licked as often
as me. And I cam up----" and Speug stuck.
"To offer yourself for a thrashing, you mean. You've mentioned the
medicine; 'pon my word, I believe it's just the very thing that will do
the trick. Confound you, Speug! if you haven't found out what I was
seeking after, and I've been doctoring those Muirtown sinners for more
than thirty years. Come along, laddie; we've had our consultation, and
we'll go to the patient." And Manley hurried Speug through the garden
and into the house. "Wait a minute here," said the doctor, "and I'll
come back to you." And in a little while Nestie came down-stairs and
found his friend in the lobby, confused and frightened for the first
time in his life, and Nestie saw the marks of distress upon his face.
"Doctor M-Manley told me, Speug, and" (putting an arm round his neck)
"you're the g-goodest chap in Muirtown. It's awfully d-decent of you,
and it'll p-please Bully tremendous." And then Speug went up as
consulting physician to visit Bulldog. Nestie brought him forward to the
bedside, and at last he had courage to look, and it took him all his
time to play the man when he saw Bulldog so thin, so quiet, so gentle,
with his face almost as white as the pillow, and his hands upon the
bedclothes wasted like to the hands of a skeleton. The master smiled
faintly, and seemed to be glad to see the worst of all his scholars, but
he did not say anything. Dr. Manley kept in the background and allowed
the boys to manage their own business, being the wisest of men as well
as the kindliest. Although Nestie made signs to Speug and gave him every
encouragement, Peter could not find a word, but stood helpless, biting
his lip and looking the very picture of abject misery.