Read Born to Wander: A Boy's Book of Nomadic Adventures Page 3

and you may believe me when I say our children shall notbe unhappy."

  Captain Lyle put his arm around her, and drew her closer towards him.

  "I never refused any request you made, Ethel, and if the colonel, as yousay, will but permit, I will not refuse you this."

  "Oh, thank you, Arnold! thank your kind and good unselfish heart. Youhave indeed taken a load off mine. I feel happy now, I feel younger,Arnold; for truly I was beginning to grow old."

  She laughed a half-hysteric laugh of joy.

  "You may read to me now," she added, re-seating herself in thehigh-backed chair, "and it can be all about war if you like."

  He took up the book and commenced at random--

  "'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland, When fairy birds are singing, When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, With bit and bridle ringing. And gaily shines the Fairyland."

  Captain Lyle got no further just then. Hurried steps were heard in thehall, the door was thrown unceremoniously open, and in rushed old Peterthe butler, pale as death, and wringing his shining hands.

  "Augh!" he gasped, clutching at the wall, "they've done it noo! They'vedone it noo! Oh that I should hae lived to see this day o' wreck andruin to the old hoose o' Lyle. Ochone! ochone! o-chrie!"

  "In the name of goodness, Peter, are you crazy, or is the house on fire?Speak, man!" cried Captain Lyle.

  "Hoose on fire? Na, na; it's waur and waur than that. But stillthere's hope, sir. I have him in a tub, and though he is lying on hisside he's gasping yet. Hallo! there they come."

  In rushed Effie and Leonard, bright-eyed and rosy with joy andexcitement.

  Effie ran to her father's arms.

  Leonard ran to his mother.

  "We've caught Joe!" they both cried at once.

  "I hooked him," cried Effie.

  "I hauled him up," cried Leonard.

  "And we both hauled him out."

  "Dool [Note 1] on the day for the hoose o' Glen Lyle," exclaimed Peter,rolling his eyes.

  "Come, father, come. Peter put him in a tub."

  Captain Lyle followed Effie. There, sure enough, in the tub of waterlay Joe, the monarch of the loch. Peter pointed to the animal's tail.

  "How strange!" said Captain Lyle, as well he might, for a huge gold ringran through the last vertebrae, and attached to this a plate, with theletters L.L., and the date 17--plainly visible.

  A few minutes afterwards Joe seemed to recover all of a sudden, andbegan tearing round and round the tub, his huge jaws snapping and hiseyes glaring like a demon's.

  Every one started back astonished, but old Peter's antics were a sightto see.

  He seized a big wooden lid and clapped it over the tub, and set himselfon top thereof. Then he addressed himself to the cook--

  "Run, ye auld roodas," he roared; "run to the kitchen, and fetch thebiggest kettle-pot ye can lay yer claws on!"

  The pot was duly fetched, and clapped upside down on top of the lid onthe tub.

  Then Peter flung his cap to the roof of the hall, and shouted, "Saved,saved! The auld hoose is saved yet."

  Now after that Captain Lyle drew old Peter aside. What the old mancommunicated to his young master the reader may learn in good time; butcertain it is, that in less than half an hour Joe found himself backonce more in his old quarters, not very much the worse for his singularadventure, and that within a week a high wooden palisade was placed allround the lake, with only one gate, and that padlocked. Leonardwondered, and so did his gentle sister. They looked at each other insilence at first, then Effie shook a serious little head, and saidsolemnly,--

  "We mustn't touch papa's pike any more."

  "No," replied Leonard, thoughtfully, "Joe _is_ papa's pike, and hemustn't be touched."

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  Leonard and Effie were the only children of their parents, who lovedthem very much indeed. Captain Lyle was proud of his boy, and, I fear,made almost too much of a pet of his girl Effie. He indulged them bothto their hearts' content, when they had done their duty for the day--that is, when they had both returned from the village school, for inthose good old days in Scotland the upper classes were not above sendingtheir boys and girls to the parish schools; there were of course nopaupers went there, only the sons and daughters of farmers andtradespeople--when duty was over, then, Captain Lyle encouraged hischildren to play. Indeed, he seemed more like a big boy--a brother, forinstance--than a father. He was always planning out new measures ofenjoyment, and one of the best of these was what Leonard called _TheMiniature Menagerie_.

  I do most sincerely believe that the planning and building of thisdelightful little fairy palace saved the life of Captain Lyle. He hadbeen invalided home in the month of January 1810--about ten monthsbefore the opening scene of our tale--and it was judged that a year anda half at least must elapse before he would be again fit for service.War-worn and weary though he was, having served nearly a dozen years, hesoon began, with returning health, to pine for activity, when the happythought struck him to build a palace for his children's pets.

  He communicated his ideas to Leonard and Effie, and they were delighted.

  "Of course," said Leonard, "we must assist."

  "Assuredly you must," said Captain Lyle; "the pie would be no pie at allunless you had a finger in it."

  The first thing that the head of the house of Glen Lyle had done was tosit down in his study one evening after dinner, with the great oil lampswinging in front of him, a huge bottle of ink, and a dozen pens andpencils lying on the table, to say nothing of a whole regiment ofmathematical instruments that had been all through the French war,compasses, rules, squares, triangles, semi-circles, and what not.

  The second thing that Captain Lyle had done was, with a pencil, to filla big page of paper with all kinds of droll faces and figures.

  Little Effie climbed up behind his chair before long and had a peep overhis shoulder.

  "Oh, papa dear!" she cried, "that is not making a menagerie."

  "I know it isn't, Effie. I think my thoughts had gone awool-gathering."

  "Well," said Effie, considering, "we may want some wool for nests andthings; but don't you think, papa, that we should build the house first,and look for the wool afterwards?"

  "Oh!" cried Leonard, "don't worry about the wool. Captain Lyle, yourson Leonard, who stands before you, knows where to find lots of it. Forwhenever a sheep runs through a hedge--and they're always, runningthrough hedges, you know--they leave a tuft of wool on every thorn."

  "Well, my son, we'll leave the wool out of the question for thepresent." Then he walked about smiling to himself for a time andthinking, while the boy and girl amused themselves turning over theleaves of an old-fashioned picture-book.

  "Hush!" said Effie several times when Leonard laughed too loud. "Hush!for I'm sure papa is deep in thought."

  "I have it!" cried papa.

  And down he sat.

  Words, and figures, and little morsels of sketches came very fast now,the secret of his present success being that he did not try to forcehimself to think, and my readers will find that our best thoughts cometo us when we do not try to worry after them.

  Yes, Captain Lyle's ideas were flowing now, so quickly that he had tojot them down, or sketch them down here and there all over a great sheetof paper, and in about an hour's time the rush of thought had, in ameasure, expended itself. He leant back in his chair, and gave a sighof relief.

  Once more Effie came stealing up on tiptoe and peeped over his shoulder.

  "Oh, what a scrawl!" she cried.

  "My dear Eff," said her father, "that is only the crude material."

  "Leonardie," cried Effie, "come and see the rude material."

  "Well, it does seem rude enough material," said Leonard.

  "Yes," said Effie, "but I'm sure my clever papa will make something outof it before he has done."

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  Note 1. Dool, _Scottice_--Grief or sorrow.

  Book 1--CHAPTER THREE.

  CASTLE BEAUTIFUL.

  "The poet may tread earth sadly, Yet is he dreamland's king; And the fays, at his bidding, gladly Visions of beauty bring."

  Mortimer Collins.

  Scene: A green hill or knoll rising with a gentle sweep from the woodsnear Grayling House, on one side gigantic elm trees, with rooks busynest-making. On the other, at the rock foot, the dark deep loch.Behind the hill, as far as the eye can see, a forest dotted withspring-green larches and dark waving pines; blue mountains beyond, and abright sun shining down on all from a