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Page 32
An opening door, a barking sheep-dog, the shuffle of the moving
flock, were signs that the farm day was beginning, although all
the stars had not faded out of the sky. A little flying shadow,
Bobby slipped out of the cow-yard, past the farm-house, and
literally tumbled down the brae. From one level to another he
dropped, several hundred feet in a very few minutes, and from the
clear air of the breezy hilltop to a nether world that was buried
fathoms deep in a sea-fog as white as milk.
Hidden in a deep fold of the spreading skirts of the range, and
some distance from the road, lay a pool, made by damming a burn,
and used, in the shearing season, for washing sheep. Surrounded
by brushy woods, and very damp and dark, at other seasons it was
deserted. Bobby found this secluded place with his nose, curled
up under a hazel thicket and fell sound asleep. And while he
slept, a nipping wind from the far, northern Highlands swooped
down on the mist and sent it flying out to sea. The Lowlands
cleared like magic. From the high point where Bobby lay the road
could be seen to fall, by short rises and long descents, all the
way to Edinburgh. From its crested ridge and flanking hills the
city trailed a dusky banner of smoke out over the fishing fleet
in the Firth.
A little dog cannot see such distant views. Bobby could only read
and follow the guide-posts of odors along the way. He had begun
the ascent to the toll-bar when he heard the clatter of a cart
and the pounding of hoofs behind him. He did not wait to learn if
this was the Cauldbrae farmer in pursuit. Certain knowledge on
that point was only to be gained at his peril. He sprang into the
shelter of a stone wall, scrambled over it, worked his way along
it a short distance, and disappeared into a brambly path that
skirted a burn in a woody dell.
Immediately the little dog was lost in an unexplored country. The
narrow glen was musical with springs, and the low growth was
undercut with a maze of rabbit runs, very distracting to a dog of
a hunting breed. Bobby knew, by much journeying with Auld Jock,
that running water is a natural highway. Sheep drift along the
lowest level until they find an outlet down some declivity, or up
some foaming steep, to new pastures.
But never before had Bobby found, above such a rustic brook, a
many chimneyed and gabled house of stone, set in a walled garden
and swathed in trees. Today, many would cross wide seas to look
upon Swanston cottage, in whose odorous old garden a whey-faced,
wistful-eyed laddie dreamed so many brave and laughing dreams.
It was only a farm-house then, fallen from a more romantic
history, and it had no attraction for Bobby. He merely sniffed at
dead vines of clematis, sleeping briar bushes, and very live,
bright hedges of holly, rounded a corner of its wall, and ran
into a group of lusty children romping on the brae, below the
very prettiest, thatch roofed and hill-sheltered hamlet within
many a mile of Edinboro' town. The bairns were lunching from
grimy, mittened hands, gypsy fashion, life being far too short
and playtime too brief for formal meals. Seeing them eating,
Bobby suddenly discovered that he was hungry. He rose before a
well-provided laddie and politely begged for a share of his meal.
Such an excited shouting of admiration and calling on mithers to
come and see the bonny wee dog was never before heard on Swanston
village green. Doors flew open and bareheaded women ran out. Then
the babies had to be brought, and the' old grandfaithers and
grandmithers. Everybody oh-ed and ah-ed and clapped hands, and
doubled up with laughter, for, a tempting bit held playfully just
out of reach, Bobby rose, again and again, jumped for it, and
chased a teasing laddie. Then he bethought him to roll over and
over, and to go through other winsome little tricks, as Auld Jock
had taught him to do, to win the reward. All this had one quite
unexpected result. A shrewd-eyed woman pounced upon Bobby and
captured him.
"He's no' an ordinar' dog. Some leddy has lost her pet. I'll
juist shut 'im up, an' syne she'll pay a shullin' or twa to get
'im again."
With a twist and a leap Bobby was gone. He scrambled straight up
the steep, thorn-clad wall of the glen, where no laddie could
follow, and was over the crest. It was a narrow escape, made by
terrific effort. His little heart pounding with exhaustion and
alarm, he hid under a whin bush to get his breath and strength.
The sheltered dell was windless, but here a stiff breeze blew.
Suddenly shifting a point, the wind brought to the little dog's
nose a whiff of the acrid coal smoke of Edinburgh three miles
away.
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