Duck"--as he sometimes called the pony--would not know him. "Besides, Elsie," he said, "lying down among strawwith scarlets on wouldn't improve them."
But old Kate had given him a birthday present of a little ScotchGlengarry cap with a real eagle's feather, and he always wore this inthe hunting-field. He did so for two reasons; first, it pleased oldKate; and, secondly, the cap stuck to his head; no breeze could blow itoff.
It was not long before Archie was known in the field as the "LittleDemon Huntsman." And, really, had you seen Scallowa and he featheringacross a moor, his bonnet on the back of his head, and the pony'simmense mane blowing straight back in the wind, you would have thoughtthe title well earned. In a straight run the pony could not keep upwith the long-legged horses; but Archie and he could dash through awood, and even swim streams, and take all manner of short cuts, so thathe was always in at the death.
The most remarkable trait in Archie's riding was that he could takeflying leaps from heights: only a Shetland pony could have done this.Archie knew every yard of country, and he rather liked heading hisLilliputian nag right away for a knoll or precipice, and bounding off itlike a roebuck or Scottish deerhound. The first time he was observedgoing straight for a bank of this kind he created quite a sensation."The boy will be killed!" was the cry, and every lady then drew rein andheld her breath.
Away went Scallowa, and they were on the bank, in the air, and landedsafely, and away again in less time that it takes me to tell of theexploit.
The secret of the lad's splendid management of the pony was this: heloved Scallowa, and Scallowa knew it. He not only loved the littlehorse, but studied his ways, so he was able to train him to do quite anumber of tricks, such as lying down "dead" to command, kneeling toladies--for Archie was a gallant lad--trotting round and roundcircus-fashion, and ending every performance by coming and kissing hismaster. Between you and me, reader, a bit of carrot had a good deal todo with the last trick, if not with the others also.
It occurred to this bold boy once that he might be able to take Scallowaup the dark tower stairs to the boy's own room. The staircase wasunusually wide, and the broken stones in it had been repaired with logsof wood. He determined to try; but he practised riding him blindfoldedfirst. Then one day he put him at the stairs; he himself went firstwith the bridle in his hand.
What should he do if he failed? That is a question he did not stop toanswer. One thing was quite certain, Scallowa could not turn and godown again. On they went, the two of them, all in the dark, except thatnow and then a slit in the wall gave them a little light and, farbeneath, a pretty view of the country. On and on, and up and up, tillwithin ten feet of the top.
Here Scallowa came to a dead stop, and the conversation between Archieand his steed, although the latter did not speak English, might havebeen as follows: "Come on, `Eider Duck'!"
"Not a step farther, thank you."
"Come on, old horsie! You can't turn, you know."
"No; not another step if I stay here till doomsday in the afternoon.Going upstairs becomes monotonous after a time. No; I'll be shot if Ibudge!"
"You'll be shot if you don't. Gee up, I say; gee up!"
"Gee up yourself; I'm going to sleep."
"I say, Scallowa, look here."
"What's that, eh? a bit of carrot? Oh, here goes?" And in a fewseconds more Scallowa was in the room, and had all he could eat of cakesand carrots. Archie was so delighted with his success that he must goto the castle turret, and halloo for Branson and old Kate to come andsee what he had got in the tower.
Old Kate's astonishment knew no bounds, and Branson laughed till hissides were sore. Bounder, the Newfoundland, appeared also to appreciatethe joke, and smiled from lug to lug.
"How will you get him down?"
"Carrots," said Archie; "carrots, Branson. The `Duck' will do anythingfor carrots."
The "Duck," however, was somewhat nervous at first, and half-waydownstairs even the carrots appeared to have lost their charm.
While Archie was wondering what he should do now, a loud explosionseemed to shake the old tower to its very foundation. It was onlyBounder barking in the rear of the pony. But the sound had the desiredeffect, and down came the "Duck," and away went Archie, so that in a fewminutes both were out on the grass.
And here Scallowa must needs relieve his feelings by lying down androlling; while great Bounder, as if he had quite appreciated all the funof the affair, and must do something to allay his excitement, wenttearing round in a circle, as big dogs do, so fast that it was almostimpossible to see anything of him distinctly. He was a dark shape _etpreterea nihil_.
But after a time Scallowa got near to the stair, which only proves thatthere is nothing in reason you cannot teach a Shetland pony, if you lovehim and understand him.
The secret lies in the motto, "Fondly and firmly." But, as alreadyhinted, a morsel of carrot comes in handy at times.
CHAPTER FIVE.
"BOYS WILL BE BOYS."
Bob Cooper was as good as his word, which he had pledged to Archie onthat night at Burley Old Farm, and Branson never saw him again in theSquire's preserves.
Nor had he ever been obliged to compeer before the Squire himself--whowas now a magistrate--to account for any acts of trespass in pursuit ofgame on the lands of other lairds. But this does not prove that Bob hadgiven up poaching. He was discreetly silent about this matter wheneverhe met Archie.
He had grown exceedingly fond of the lad, and used to be delighted whenhe called at his mother's cottage on his "Eider Duck." There was alwaysa welcome waiting Archie here, and whey to drink, which, it must beadmitted, is very refreshing on a warm summer's day.
Well, Bob on these occasions used to show Archie how to make flies, orbusk hooks, and gave him a vast deal of information about outdoor lifeand sport generally.
The subject of poaching was hardly ever broached; only once, when he andArchie were talking together in the little cottage, Bob himselfvolunteered the following information:
"The gentry folks, Master Archie, think me a terrible man; and theywonder I don't go and plough, or something. La! they little know I'vebeen brought up in the hills. Sport I must hae. I couldna live awayfrom nature. But I'm never cruel. Heigho! I suppose I must leave thecountry, and seek for sport in wilder lands, where the man o' moneydoesn't trample on the poor. Only one thing keeps me here."
He glanced out of the window as he spoke to where his old mother wascooking dinner _al fresco_--boiling a pot as the gipsy does, hung from atripod.
"I know, I know," said Archie.
"How old are you now, Master Archie?"
"Going on for fourteen."
"Is _that_ all? Why ye're big eno' for a lad o' seventeen!"
This was true. Archie was wondrous tall, and wondrous brown andhandsome. His hardy upbringing and constant outdoor exercise, insummer's shine or winter's snow, fully accounted for his stature andlooks.
"I'm almost getting too big for my pony."
"Ah! no, lad; Shetlands'll carry most anything."
"Well, I must be going, Bob Cooper. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Master Archie. Ah! lad, if there were more o' your kind andyour father's in the country, there would be fewer bad men like--likeme."
"I don't like to hear you saying that, Bob. Couldn't you be a good manif you liked? You're big enough."
The poacher laughed.
"Yes," he replied, "I'm big enough; but, somehow, goodness don't strikeright home to me like. It don't come natural--that's it."
"My brother Rupert says it is so easy to be good, if you read and prayGod to teach and help you."
"Ah, Master Archie, your brother is good himself, but he doesn't knowall."
"My brother Rupert bade me tell you that; but, oh, Bob, how nice he canspeak. I can't. I can fish and shoot, and ride `Eider Duck;' but Ican't say things so pretty as he can. Well, good-bye again."
"Good-bye again, and tell your brother that I can't be good all at onejump like, but I'll
begin to try mebbe. So long."
Archie Broadbent might have been said to have two kinds of homeeducation; one was thoroughly scholastic, the other very practicalindeed. The Squire was one in a hundred perhaps. He was devoted to hisfarm, and busied himself in the field, manually as well as orally. Imean to say that he was of such an active disposition that, whilesuperintending and giving advice and orders, he put his hand to thewheel himself. So did Mr Walton, and whether it was harvest-time orhaymaking, you would have found Squire Broadbent, the tutor, and Archiehard at it, and even little Elsie doing a little.
I would not like to say that the Squire