CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
A CHAPTER OF CATASTROPHES.
It was the very next day after the conversation in the library that thewaggonette was sent over to Cove to meet the steamer and fetch MrsMoss, who was expected to arrive. As Ian Anderson and Donald with theragged head had to return home that day, they were offered a lift bytheir friend Roderick.
"I wad raither waalk, Rodereek," said Ian; "but I dar' say I may as weeltak a lift as far as the Cluff; chump up, Tonal'."
Donald was not slow to obey. Although active and vigorous as a mountaingoat, he had no objection to repose under agreeable conditions.
"What think ye o' the keeper _this_ time, Rodereek?" asked the boatmanas they drove away.
"Oo, it wull be the same as last time," answered the groom. "He'll haudon for a while, an' then he wull co pack like the soo to her wallowin'i' the mire."
"I doubt ye're richt," returned Ian, with a solemn shake of the head."He's an unstiddy character, an' he hes naither the fear o' Cod nor manpefore his eyes. But he's a plees'nt man when he likes."
"Oo, ay, but there iss not in him the wull to give up the trink. He hesgiven it up more than wance before, an' failed. He will co from pad toworse in my opinion. There iss no hope for him, I fear."
"Fery likely," and on the strength of that opinion Ian drew a flask fromhis pocket, and the two cronies had what the groom called a "tram"together.
Farther up the steep road they overtook John Barret and Giles Jackman,who saluted them with pleasant platitudes about the weather as theypassed. Curiously enough, these two chanced to be conversing on thevery subject that had engaged the thoughts of Ian and the groom.
"They say this is not the first time that poor Ivor has dashed hisbottle to pieces," said Barret. "I fear it has become a disease in thiscase, and that he has lost the power of self-control. From all I hear Ihave little hope of him. It is all the more sad that he seems to havegained the affections of that poor little girl, Aggy Anderson."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Giles, laughing; "a fellow-feeling makes youwondrous sharp, I suppose, for I had not observed that interesting fact.But why do you speak in such pitiful tones of Aggy?"
"Because she is an invalid, and her lover is a drunkard. Sufficientreasons, I should think."
"No, not quite, because she has almost recovered her usual health whilehere, and poor Ivor is, after all, only one of the sinners for whomJesus Christ died. I have great hopes of him."
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Jackman, though I don't see that the factof our Saviour's dying for us all proves his case to be hopeful. Arethere not hundreds of men of whom the same may be said, yet they are notdelivered from drunkenness, and don't seem likely to be?"
"That is unquestionably true," rejoined his friend; "but such men as yourefer to have not been brought to the condition of renouncing self, andtrusting _only_ in our Saviour. They want to have some credit in thematter of their own salvation--hence they fail. Ivor, I have goodreason to believe, _has_ been brought to that condition--a conditionwhich insures success--hence my great hopes of him. I became aware ofhis state of mind, partly from having had a long talk with him the otherday, and partly from the report of his good old mother. She told meyesterday that Ivor had come to her, laid his hand on her shoulder, andsaid, `Mither, I've lost all hope o' mysel' noo,' to which the old womananswered, `That's the best news I've heard for mony a day, my son, fornoo the Lord wull let ye see what He can do for ye.' Ivor's reply tothat was, `I believe ye're richt, mither.' Now I think that was a greatdeal to come from two such undemonstrative Celts."
At this point in the conversation they reached a part of the road wherea footpath diverged down to the river, the road itself rising abruptlytowards the Eagle Cliff.
"We separate here," said Jackman. "I need scarcely ask where you aregoing, or what going to do! Botany, coupled with inaccessible cliffs,seems to be your mania just now. Oh! John Barret, my friend, may I notwith truth, in your case, paraphrase a well-known couplet,--
"Milly in the heart breeds Milly in the brain, And this reciprocally that again?"
"Your paraphrases are about equal to your compositions, Jackman, and, insaying that, I don't compliment you. Pray, may I ask why you haveforsaken your favourite weapon, the gun, and taken to the rod to-day?"
"Because of amiability--pure and simple. You know I don't care a rushfor fishing, but, to my surprise, this morning MacRummle expressed awish to try my repeating rifle at the rabbits, and offered to let me tryhis rod, and--I might almost add--his river. Wasn't it generous of him?So I'm off to have a try for `that salmon,' and he is off no one knowswhere, to send the terrified rabbits into their holes. Good-bye, oldfellow--a pleasant day to you."
Left alone, Barret began to devote himself to the cliffs. It wasarduous work, for the said cliffs were almost perpendicular, and plantsgrew in such high-up crevices, and on such un-get-at-able places, thatit seemed as if "rare specimens" knew their own value, as well as thegreat demand for them, and selected their habitations accordingly.
It was pleasant work, and our hero revelled in it! To be in suchexceptional circumstances, with the grand cliffs above and below him,with no one near, save the lordly eagle himself, to watch his doings,with the wild sweeps of mountain-land everywhere, clothed with bracken,heather, and birch, and backed by the island-studded sea; with the freshair and the bright sun, and brawling burns, and bleating sheep, and theobjects of his favourite science around him, and the strong muscularframe and buoyant spirits that God had given to enable him to enjoy itall, was indeed enough to arouse a feeling of gratitude and enthusiasm;but when, in addition to this, the young man knew that he was not merelybotanising on his own account, but working at it for Milly, he felt asthough he had all but attained to the topmost pinnacle of felicity!
It is sad to think that in human affairs this condition is notunfrequently the precursor of misfortune. It is not necessarily so.Happily, it is not always so. Indeed, we would fain hope that it is notoften so, but it was so on this occasion.
Barret had about half filled his botanical box with what he believed tobe an interesting collection of plants that would cause the eyes ofMilly Moss to sparkle, when the position of the sun and internalsensations induced him to think of his midday meal. It was tied up in alittle square paper package. There was a spring at the bottom of thecliffs. It was near the stone where he had met Milly, and had given wayto precipitancy. Not far from the spot also where he had made Milly upinto a bundle, with a plaid, and started with her towards Kinlossie. Noplace could be better than that for his solitary luncheon. He would gothere.
Descending the cliffs, he gained the road, and was walking along towardsthe selected spot, when the sound of wheels arrested him. Looking up,he saw the waggonette turn sharp round the projecting cliff, andapproach him at a walk. He experienced a little depression of spirit,for there was no one in it, only the groom on the box. Milly would besorely disappointed!
"Mrs Moss has not come, I see," he said, as the groom reined up.
"Oo, ay, sir, she's come. But she iss a queer leddy. She's beenchumpin' in an' oot o' the waginette a' the way up, like a whutret, toadmire the scenery, as she says. When we cam' to the heed o' the passshe chumped oot again, an' telt me to drive on slow, an wait at the futto' the first hull for her. She's no far ahint."
"I'll go and meet her. You can drive on, slowly."
Barret hurried forward with feelings of considerable uncertainty as towhether this chance of meeting his mother-in-law to be (he hoped!)alone, and in these peculiar circumstances, would be an advantage orotherwise. She might be annoyed by a sudden interruption in "admiringthe scenery." There would be the awkwardness of having to introducehimself, and she might be fatigued after all her "chumpin'" in and outof the waggonette.
He was still pondering these points while he walked smartly forward,turned the projecting cliff above referred to, and all but overturnedthe identical little old lady whom he had run down on his bicy
cle, weeksbefore, in London!
To say that these two drew back and gazed at each other intently--thelady quivering and pale, the youth aghast and red--is to give but afeeble account of the situation.
"Young man," she said, indignantly, in a low, repressed voice, "you havea peculiar talent for assaulting ladies."
"Madam," explained the youth, growing desperate, "you are right. Icertainly have a talent--at least a misfortune--of that sort--"
He stopped short, for, being quite overwhelmed, he knew not what to say.
"It is sad," continued the little old lady in a tone of contempt, "thata youth like you should so much belie your looks. It was so mean of youto run away without a word of apology, just like a bad little boy, forfear of being scolded--not that I cared much for being run down withthat horrid bicycle, for I was not hurt--though I _might_ have beenkilled--but it was the cowardly way in which you left me lying helplessamong bakers, and sweeps, and policemen, and dirty boys. Oh! it wasdisgraceful."
Poor Barret became more and more overwhelmed as she went on.
"Spare me, madam," he cried, in desperation. "Oh; if you only knew whatI have suffered on your account since that unlucky day! Believe me, itwas not cowardice--well, I cannot say that exactly--but it was not thefear of your just reproaches that made me fly. It was the approach ofthe police, and the fear of being taken up, and a public trial, and thedisgrace of--of--and--then I felt ashamed before I had fled more than afew hundred yards, and I returned to the spot, but you were gone, and Ihad no means of--of--"
"That will do, young man. There is no need to keep me standing in thiswild place. You are living somewhere in this neighbourhood, I suppose?"
"Yes. I am living in the neighbourhood," said Barret bitterly.
"Well, I am going to stay at Kinlossie House. You know Kinlossie House,I suppose?"
"Oh, yes, I know it."
"There is no occasion to look so fierce or bitter, young sir. I amgoing to be at Kinlossie for some time. If you choose to call there, Ishall be ready to listen to your explanations and apologies, for I haveno desire to appear either harsh or unforgiving. Meanwhile, I wish yougood morning."
Saying which, and with a sweeping bow of a rather antiquated style, theoffended lady passed on.
For a considerable time Barret stood motionless, with folded arms,"admiring the scenery" with a stony stare. A stone about the size ofhis fist lay at his foot. He suddenly kicked that violently into space.Had it been the size of his head, he would probably not have kicked it!Then he gave vent to a wild laugh, became suddenly grave, thrust hishands deep into his pockets, and walked up the road with clenched teethand a deadly stride.
Mrs Moss heard the laugh as it echoed among the great cliffs.
"What a dreadful young man!" she muttered, hurrying forward.
She thought of asking her driver who he was, but she had found Roderickto be a very taciturn Highlander. He had not shown much disposition toconverse on the way up, and his speech had not been very intelligible toher English--or Anglicised--ears. She re-entered the waggonette,therefore, in silence. Roderick drove on also in silence, although muchsurprised that the "young shentleman" had not returned with the "leddy."But that was none of his business "what-e-ver."
As the little old lady brooded over the matter, she resolved to saynothing of the meeting to Milly. She happened to possess a spice ofhumour, and thought it might be well to wait until the youth shouldcall, and then, after forgiveness sought and obtained, introduce him atKinlossie as the young man who ran her down in London!
Meanwhile Barret walked himself into a better state of mind, clamberedto a nook on the face of one of the cliffs, and sat down to meditate andconsider what was best to be done.
Although he had not gone out that day to shoot, but to botanise, hecarried a light double-barrelled shot gun, in case he might get a chanceat a hare, which was always acceptable to the lady of Kinlossie.
While the incidents just described were being enacted at the base of theEagle Cliff higher up, on a distant part of the same cliff, MacRummlemight have been seen prowling among the grey rocks, with the spirit ofNimrod, and the aspect of Bacchus.
It was the habit of MacRummle, being half blind, to supplement hisvision with that peculiar kind of glasses which support--or refuse tosupport--themselves on the human countenance by means of the nose.These, although admirably adapted for reading, and even for quietlyfishing by the river-side, he found to be miserably unsuited forsporting among the cliffs, for they were continually tumbling off as hestumbled along, or were twitched off by his rifle when he was in the actof making false points.
Perseverance was, however, the strong point in the old man's character--if it had a strong point at all. He replaced the glasses perpetually,and kept pointing persistently. He did little more than point, becausethe thing that he pointed at, whatever it was, usually got out of theway before MacRummle obtained a reliable aim. With a shot gun he mighthave done better, for that weapon admits of snap-shooting, with somechance of success, even in feeble hands. But the old man was ambitious.His object was to "pot" something, as he expressed it, with a singleball. Of course it was not all pointing. He did fire occasionally,with no other result than awaking the echoes and terrifying the rabbits.But the memory of his former success with the same weapon was strongupon him, and perseverance, as we have said, was rampant. On the whole,the fusillade that he kept up was considerable, much to the amusement ofBarret (before meeting Mrs Moss!), who rightly guessed the cause of allthe noise.
About midday, like Barret, he prepared to comfort himself with lunch,and, unlike our unfortunate hero, he enjoyed it in comfort, sitting on agreen patch or terrace, high up near the summit of the cliffs, and afull mile distant from the spot where the peculiar meeting took place.
Like a giant refreshed MacRummle rose from lunch, a good deal more likeBacchus, and much less like Nimrod. A rabbit had been watching him fromthe cliff above nearly all the time he was eating. It moved quietlyinto its burrow when he rose, though there was no occasion to do so,because, although within easy rifle shot, MacRummle did not see it.When the sportsman was past, the rabbit came out and looked after him.
Fixing his glasses firmly he advanced in that stooping posture, with therifle at the "ready," which is so characteristic of keen sportsmen!Next moment a rabbit stood before him--an easy shot. It sat up on itshind legs even, as if inviting its fate, and gazed as though uncertainwhether the man was going to advance or not. He did not advance, buttook a steady, deadly aim, and was on the point of pulling the triggerwhen the glasses dropped off.
MacRummle was wonderfully patient. He said nothing. He merely replacedhis glasses and looked. The rabbit was gone. Several surroundingrabbits saw it go, but did not follow its example. They evidently feltthemselves safe.
Proceeding cautiously onward, the sportsman again caught sight of one ofthe multitude that surrounded him. It was seated on the edge of itsburrow, ready for retreat. Alas! for that rabbit, if MacRummle had beenan average shot, armed with a shot gun. But it was ignorant, and withthe characteristic presumption of ignorance, it sat still. Thesportsman took a careful and long--very long--aim, and fired! Therabbit's nose pointed to the world's centre, its tail to the sky, andwhen the smoke cleared away, it also was gone.
"Fallen into its hole! Dead, I suppose," was the remark with which thesportsman sought to comfort himself. A bullet-mark on a rock, however,two feet to the left of the hole, and about a foot too high, shook hisfaith a little in this view.
It was impossible, however, that a man should expend so much ammunitionin a region swarming with his particular prey without experiencingsomething in the shape of a fluke. He did, after a time, get one shotwhich was effectual. A young rabbit sat on the top of a mound lookingat him with an air of impudence which is sometimes associated withextreme youth. A fat old kinsman--or woman--was seated in a hollow somedistance farther on. MacRummle fired at the young one, missed it, andshot the kinsman throug
h the heart. The disappointment of the old manwhen he failed to find the young one, and his joy on discovering thekinsman, we leave to the reader's imagination.
Thus he went on, occasionally securing something for the pot,continually alarming the whole rabbit fraternity, and disgusting theeagle, which watched him from a safe distance in the ambient atmosphereabove.
By degrees he worked his way along till he came to the neighbourhood ofthe place where poor John Barret sat in meditative dejection. Althoughnear, however, the two friends could neither see nor get at each other,being separated by an impassable gulf--the one being in a crevice, as wehave said, not far from the foot of the cliff, the other hidden amongthe crags near the summit. Thus it came to pass that although Barretknew of MacRummle's position by his noise, the latter was quite ignorantof the presence of the former.
"This is horrible!" muttered the youth in his crevice below.
"Now I call this charming!" exclaimed the old man on his perch above.
Such is life--viewed from different standpoints! Ay, and correctlyestimated, too, according to these different standpoints; for the oldman saw only the sunny surrounding of the Present, while the young onegazed into the gloomy wreck of the Future.
Being somewhat fatigued, MacRummle betook himself to a sequestered ledgeamong the cliffs, and sat down under a shrub to rest. It chanced to bea well concealed spot. He remained quietly there for a considerabletime, discussing with himself the relative advantages of fishing andshooting. It is probable that his sudden disappearance and hisprolonged absence induced the eagle to imagine that he had gone away,for that watchful bird, after several circlings on outstretched andapparently motionless wings, made a magnificent swoop downwards, andagain resumed its floating action in the lower strata of its atmosphericworld. There it devoted its exclusive attention to the young man, whoseposition was clearly exposed to its view.
As he sat there in gloomy thought, Barret chanced to raise his eyes, andobserved the bird high above him--far out of gunshot.
"Fortunate creature!" he said aloud; "whatever may be the troubles ofyour lot, you are at least safe from exasperating _rencontres_ with yourfuture mother-in-law!"
We need not point out to the intelligent reader that Barret, being quiteignorant of the eagle's domestic relations, indulged in mere assumptionsin the bitterness of his soul.
He raised his fowling-piece as he spoke, and took a long, deliberate aimat the bird.
"Far beyond range," he said, lowering the gun again; "but even if youwere only four yards from the muzzle, I would not fire, poor bird! Didnot Milly say you were noble, and that it would be worse than murder tokill you? No, you are safe from me, at all events, even if you were notso wary as to keep yourself safe from everybody. And yet, methinks, ifMacRummle were still up there, he would have the chance of giving you asevere fright, though he has not the skill to bring you down."
Now it is well-known to trappers and backwoodsmen generally that themost wary of foxes, which cannot by any means be caught by one trap, maysometimes be circumvented by two traps. It is the same with decoys,whether these be placed intentionally, or place themselves accidentally.On this occasion Barret acted the part of a decoy, all unwittingly tothat eagle or to MacRummle.
In its extreme interest in the youth's proceedings the great bird soaredstraight over his head, and slowly approached the old man's position.MacRummle was not on the alert. He never was on the alert! but his eyeschanced to be gazing in the right direction, and his glasses happened tobe on. He saw it coming--something big and black! He grasped hisrepeater and knocked his glasses off.
"A raven, I think! I'll try it. I should like it as a trophy--a sortof memorial of--"
Bang!
The man who was half blind, who had scarcely used gun or rifle all hislife, achieved that which dead shots and ardent sportsmen had tried invain for years--he shot the eagle right through the heart, and that,too, with a single bullet!
Straight down it fell with a tremendous flutter, and disappeared overthe edge of its native cliff.
MacRummle went on his knees, and, craning his neck, replaced hisglasses; but nothing whatever could be seen, save the misty void below.Shrinking back from the giddy position, he rose and pulled out hiswatch.
"Let me see," he muttered, "it will take me a full hour to go round soas to reach the bottom. No; too late. I'll go home, and send thekeeper for it in the morning. The eagle may have picked its bones bythat time, to be sure; but after all, a raven is not much of a trophy."
While he was thus debating, a very different scene was taking placebelow.
Barret had been gazing up at the eagle when the shot was fired. He sawthe spout of smoke. He heard the crashing shot and echoes, and beheldthe eagle descending like a thunder-bolt. After that he saw and heardno more, for, in reaching forward to see round a projecting rock thatinterfered with his vision, his foot slipped, and he fell headlong fromthe cliff. He had not far to fall, indeed, and a whin bush broke theforce of the shock when he did strike; but he was rendered insensible,and rolled down the remainder of the slope to the bottom. There he laybruised, bleeding, and motionless on the grass, close to the road, withhis bent and broken gun beneath him, and the dead eagle not more than adozen yards from his side!
"It is not like Barret to be late," observed the laird that evening, ashe consulted his watch. "He is punctuality itself, as a rule. He musthave fallen in with some unusually interesting plants. But we can'twait. Order dinner, my dear, for I'm sure that my sister must be veryhungry after her voyage."
"Indeed I am," returned the little old lady, with a peculiar smile."Sea-sickness is the best tonic I know of, but it is an awful medicineto take."
"Almost as good as mountain air," remarked MacRummle, as they filed outof the drawing-room. "I do wish I had managed to bring that ravenhome."
At first the party at dinner was as merry as usual. The sportsmen weregraphic in recounting the various incidents of the day; Mrs Moss wasequally graphic on the horrors of the sea; MacRummle was eulogistic ofrepeating rifles, and inclined to be boastful about the raven, which hehoped to show them on the morrow, while Milly proved herself, as usual,a beautiful and interested listener, as well as a most hearty laugher.
But as the feast went on they became less noisy. Then a feeling ofuneasiness manifested itself, but no one ventured to suggest thatanything might have occurred to the absentee until the evening haddeepened into night. Then the laird started up suddenly. "Something_must_ have happened to our friend," he exclaimed, at the same timeringing the bell violently. "He has never been late before, and howeverfar he may have gone a-field, there has been more than time for him toreturn at his slowest pace. Duncan," (as the butler entered), "turn outall the men and boys as fast as you can. Tell Roderick to get lanternsready--as many as you have. Gentlemen, we must all go on this searchwithout another moment's delay!"
There is little need to say that Barret's friends and comrades were notslow to respond to the call. In less than a quarter of an hour theywere dispersed, searching every part of the Eagle Cliff, where he hadbeen last seen by Giles Jackman.
They found him at last, pale and blood-stained, making ineffectualefforts to crawl from the spot where he had fallen, both the eagle andthe broken gun being found beside him.
"No bones broken, thank God!" said Giles, after having examined him andbound up his wounds. "But he is too weak to be questioned. Now, lads,fetch the two poles and the plaid. I'll soon contrive a litter."
"All right, old fellow! God bless you!" said Barret, faintly, as hisfriend bent over him.
Roderick and Ivor raised him softly, and, with the eagle at his side,bore him towards Kinlossie House. Soon after, their heavy tramp washeard in the hall as they carried him to his room, and laid him gentlyin bed.