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Page 23
The search was continued past the modest Scott family burial plot
and on to the west wall. There was a broad outlook over Heriot's
Hospital grounds, a smooth and shining expanse of unsullied snow
about the early Elizabethan pile of buildings. Returning, they
skirted the lowest wall below the tenements, for in the circling
line of courtyarded vaults, where the "nobeelity" of Scotland lay
haughtily apart under timestained marbles, were many shadowy
nooks in which so small a dog could stow himself away. Skulking
cats were flushed there, and sent flying over aristocratic bones,
but there was no trace of Bobby.
The second tier of windows of the tenements was level with the
kirkyard wall, and several times Mr. Traill called up to a
lighted casement where a family sat at a scant supper
"Have you seen a bit dog, man?"
There was much cordial interest in his quest, windows opening and
faces staring into the dusk; but not until near the top of the
Row was a clue gained. Then, at the query, an unkempt, illclad
lassie slipped from her stool and leaned out over the pediment of
a tomb. She had seen a "wee, wee doggie jinkin' amang the
stanes." It was on the Sabbath evening, when the well-dressed
folk had gone home from the afternoon services. She was eating
her porridge at the window, "by her lane," when he "keeked up at
her so knowing, and begged so bonny," that she balanced her bit
bowl on a lath, and pushed it over on the kirkyard wall. As she
finished the story the big, blue eyes of the little maid, who
doubtless had herself known what it was to be hungry, filled with
tears.
"The wee tyke couldna loup up to it, an' a deil o' a pussy got it
a'. He was so bonny, like a leddy's pet, an' syne he fell ower on
the snaw an' creepit awa'. He didna cry oot, but he was a' but
deid wi' hunger." At the memory of it soft-hearted Ailie Lindsey
sobbed on her mother's shoulder.
The tale was retold from one excited window to another, all the
way around and all the way up to the gables, so quickly could
some incident of human interest make a social gathering in the
populous tenements. Most of all, the children seized upon the
touching story. Eager and pinched little faces peered wistfully
into the melancholy kirkyard.
"Is he yer ain dog?" crippled Tammy Barr piped out, in his thin
treble. "Gin I had a bonny wee dog I'd gie 'im ma ain brose, an'
cuddle 'im, an' he couldna gang awa'."
"Nae, laddie, he's no' my dog. His master lies buried here, and
the leal Highlander mourns for him." With keener appreciation of
its pathos, Mr. Traill recalled that this was what Auld Jock had
said: "Bobby isna ma ain dog." And he was conscious of wishing
that Bobby was his own, with his unpurchasable love and a loyalty
to face starvation. As he mounted the turfed terraces he thought
to call back:
"If you see him again, lassie, call him 'Bobby,' and fetch him up
to Greyfriars Dining-Rooms. I have a bright siller shulling, with
the Queen's bonny face on it, to give the bairn that finds
Bobby."
There was excited comment on this. He must, indeed, be an
attractive dog to be worth a shilling. The children generously
shared plans for capturing Bobby. But presently the windows were
closed, and supper was resumed. The caretaker was irritable.
"Noo, ye'll hae them a' oot swarmin' ower the kirkyaird. There's
nae coontin' the bairns o' the neeborhood, an' nane o' them are
so weel broucht up as they micht be."
Mr. Traill commented upon this philosophically: "A bairn is like
a dog in mony ways. Tak' a stick to one or the other and he'll
misbehave. The children here are poor and neglected, but they're
no' vicious like the awfu' imps of the Cowgate, wha'd steal from
their blind grandmithers. Get on the gude side of the bairns,
man, and you'll live easier and die happier."
It seemed useless to search the much longer arm of the kirkyard
that ran southward behind the shops of Greyfriars Place and
Forest Road. If Bobby was in the enclosure at all he would not be
far from Auld Jock's grave. Nearest the new-made mound were two
very old and dark table-tombs. The farther one lay horizontally,
on its upright "through stanes," some distance above the earth.
The supports of the other had fallen, and the table lay on their
thickness within six inches of the ground. Mr. Traill and the
caretaker sat upon this slab, which testified to the piety and
worth of one Mistress Jean Grant, who had died "lang syne."
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