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Page 16
The sagacious little dog understood, and pattered about the place
silently. Exhausting it in a moment, and very plainly puzzled and
bored, he sat on his haunches, yawned wide, and looked up
inquiringly to his master. Auld Jock set the jug and the candle
on the floor and slipped off his boots. He had no wish to "wauken
'is neebors." With nervous haste he threw back one of the windows
on its hinges, reached across the wide stone ledge and brought
in-wonder of wonders, in such a place a tiny earthen pot of
heather!
"Is it no' a bonny posie?" he whispered to Bobby. With this
cherished bit of the country that he had left behind him the
April before in his hands, he sat down in the fireplace bed and
lifted Bobby beside him. He sniffed at the red tuft of
purple bloom fondly, and his old face blossomed into smiles. It
was the secret thought of this, and of the hillward outlook from
the little windows, that had ironed the lines from his face in
Mr. Traill's dining-room. Bobby sniffed at the starved plant,
too, and wagged his tail with pleasure, for a dog's keenest
memories are recorded by the nose.
Overhead, loose tiles and finials rattled in the wind, that was
dying away in fitful gusts; but Auld Jock heard nothing. In fancy
he was away on the braes, in the shy sun and wild wet of April
weather. Shepherds were shouting, sheepdogs barking, ewes
bleating, and a wee puppy, still unnamed, scampering at his heels
in the swift, dramatic days of lambing time. And so, presently,
when the forlorn hope of the little pot had been restored to the
ledge, master and dog were in tune with the open country, and
began a romp such as they often had indulged in behind the byre
on a quiet, Sabbath afternoon.
They had learned to play there like two well-brought-up
children, in pantomime, so as not to scandalize pious
countryfolk. Now, in obedience to a gesture, a nod, a lifted
eyebrow, Bobby went through all his pretty tricks, and showed how
far his serious education had progressed.. He rolled over and
over, begged, vaulted the low hurdle of his master's arm, and
played "deid." He scampered madly over imaginary pastures; ran,
straight as a string, along a stone wall; scrambled under a
thorny hedge; chased rabbits, and dug foxes out of holes; swam a
burn, flushed feeding curlews, and "froze" beside a rat-hole.
When the excitement was at its height and the little dog was
bursting with exuberance, Auld Jock forgot his caution. Holding
his bonnet just out of reach, he cried aloud:
"Loup, Bobby!"
Bobby jumped for the bonnet, missed it, jumped again and
barked-the high-pitched, penetrating yelp of the terrier.
Instantly their little house of joy tumbled about their ears.
There was a pounding on the thin partition wall, an oath and a
shout "Whaur's the deil o' a dog?" Bobby flew at the insulting
clamor, but Auld Jock dragged him back roughly. In a voice made
harsh by fear for his little pet, he commanded:
"Haud yer gab or they'll hae ye oot."
Bobby dropped like a shot, cringing at Auld Jock's feet. The most
sensitive of four-footed creatures in the world, the Skye terrier
is utterly abased by a rebuke from his master. The whole garret
was soon in an uproar of vile accusation and shrill denial that
spread from cell to cell.
Auld Jock glowered down at Bobby with frightened eyes. In the
winters he had lodged there he had lived unmolested only because
he had managed to escape notice. Timid old country body that he
was, he could not "fecht it oot" with the thieves and beggars and
drunkards of the Cowgate. By and by the brawling died down. In
the double row of little dens this one alone was silent, and the
offending dog was not located.
But when the danger was past, Auld Jock's heart was pounding in
his chest. His legs gave way under him, when he got up to fetch
the candle from near the door and set it on a projecting brick
in the fireplace. By its light he began to read in a small pocket
Bible the Psalm that had always fascinated him because he had
never been able to understand it.
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