CHAPTER VI.
Beef steaks and bacon hams I can eat as lang's I'm able, Cutlets, chops, and mutton pies; Pork's the king o' a' the table!
_Fragment of an old Bachanalian Song._
"It has made my heart very sair that tale," said Charlie; "I wish youhadna tauld it."
"I think it is nae tale ata'," said Tam Craik: "If I coudna hae tauld abetter tale than that, I wad never hae begun. I could now wager saxmerks, and sax brass mowdiworts to boot, that the Gospel-friar is theman that shall be the first to thole the knife. And what for should heno? He'll make the best mart amang us."
"I differ widely from you," said the poet, "with regard to the merits ofthe tale. I love the friar for telling it; and I love him ten timesbetter for the part he took in the transaction. How I do admire the lovethat has no selfish flaw, no moiety of sense to prompt its aberrations!Should I ever get free from this vile pinnacle,--this grave inaltitude,--I'll search the world for that dear child, and find her too,if in the world she be."
"Alas! I have searched, and searched in vain," answered the friar. "Itwas so long before I knew of the mishap of my friend, and my darlingchild, that all memory of the transaction was lost. I would travel fromsea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth, to find outthat dear, that beloved maiden; and could I find her I would yet put herin possession of the inheritance of her father. For I have instructedthe heads of our order, and they are preserving it in their own hands asthe patrimony of the orphan and the father-less."
During the time of the friar's narrative, Delany had been sitting closeby his knee in fixed and earnest attention; and at this time therechancing to be a pause in the conversation, she looked wistfully about,as if afraid she was going to commit herself by telling a lie. But therewas such a beam of intelligence playing over her lovely countenance,that all the party fixed their eyes on her, as if watching with thedeepest interest what she was going to say.
"I have a confused dream of having heard something of this storybefore," said she: "but subsequent events had quite obliterated thetraces of it from my memory, till this narrative renewed them: I think Ican give you some intelligence of this lost maiden. You said she wascalled by her father's name. Do you recollect what that father of her'swas called?"
"Ay, that will I never forget while memory retains her seat in thisrepentant bosom," said the friar. "His name was Captain JacquesDe-la-Veny."
"The very same," said the maid. "Then do you know ought of this? Or didyou ever see it before?"--and she took a small miniature from her bosom,holding it near to the friar's eye.
"By the blessed stars of heaven, and the Holy Virgin that rules abovethem!" exclaimed the friar; "it is the graven image of the captain offifty whom I slew in battle. I saw it placed in thy bosom, yea I heldthee on my knee till that chain of gold was locked about thy neck neverto be removed. Thou art indeed the daughter of the fairest and thecomeliest among women,--of her whom I loved far above my own life, andfor whom I travailled in pain; yea, thou art the child that I nursed andheld on my knee, and all the inheritance of thy fathers is thine.Blessed be thou, my daughter! and blessed be they who have preservedthee! Come to my bosom my child, my beloved, my fair one, that I mayfall on thy neck, and bless thee, and weep over thee; for my soulrejoiceth that I have found thee."
The poet could stand it no longer; he threw himself at the maiden'sfeet, and embraced them, and wept aloud. Charlie was busied in drawingpictures of swords and cross-bows on the floor with the brazen end ofhis sheathe, and always giving a loud sob as if his heart would burst.Even Master Michael Scott once drew the back of his hand across hiseyes, though no one believed it was ought of sympathy that affectedhim.
"The abbreviation of the name was so natural in the mouths of the peopleof this land," said the friar, "that I wonder I should never haverecognised it, nor yet on the face of my dear child the features of hermother. Hard has been thy lot, and the lot of thy fathers, but blessingsmay yet remain in store for thee."
"I dinna see where they're to come frae," said Charlie, sighing louderthan ever. "It wad be the hardest thing I ever kend, if ane sae young,sae bonnie, and sae good, after a' that she has borne, should be prickitup atween the yird and the heaven here, to be hungered to dead, and theneaten wi' the corbies."
"Life's sweet to us a'," said Gibbie: "She wad be as little missed asony that's here, if she _should_ be starved to death wi' hunger."
"She shall _not_ be starved to death wi' hunger;" cried Charlie, in atone of valiant desperation. "Na, na; afore she die o' hunger after a'she has come through, I'll rather cut a limb off my ain body and feedher wi't. An Corbie be spared, I can e'en ride by the warden's side wi'a timmer ane."
"God bless you, for a kind heart," cried the poet.
"Gin I thought I were to win her mysel," said Tam, "and win away wi'life out o' this luckless place, I wad do a good deal for her; but if Itrowed ony o' you were to get her frae me--I'll no tell you how I feel."
"Just as a hungry man should feel," said Gibbie; "and as ane wha hasstarvation afore his een maun feel. It is e'en a sair trial, and oftenbrings me a-mind o' the story of Marion Gib's callant."
Master Michael Scott, thinking that, in right of seniority, the Lairdwas now about to begin his trial story for life or death, made a signalwith his hand for his guests to compose themselves, which they did withone consent; while Gibbie, pleased with the mark of deference shown tohim, went on:--
Laird of Peatstacknowe's Tale.
There wad aiblins nane o' you ken Marion. She lived i' the Dod-Shiel;and had a callant to the lang piper, him that Squire Ridley's man beatat the Peel-hill meeting. Weel, you see, he was a gilliegaupy of acallant, gayan like the dad o' him; for Marion said he wad hae eaten ahorse ahint the saddle; and as her shieling wasna unco weel stored o'meat, she had ill getting him mainteened; till at the lang and the lastit just came to this pass, that whenever Jock was i' the house, it was aconstant battle atween Marion and him. Jock fought to be at meat, andMarion to keep him frae it, and mony hard clouts and claws there past.They wad hae foughten about a haggis, or a new kirning o' butter, for ahale hour, and the battle generally endit in Jock's getting a', or agood shareo' ilka thing. (I wish we had sic things here, even though wehad to fight for them!) When he had fairly gained the possession, bywhatever means, he feasted with the greatest satisfaction, licking hislarge ruddy lips, and looking all about him with eyes of the utmostbenevolence. Marion railed all the while that the poor lad was enjoyinghimself, without any mercy and restraint, and there wasna a vile nameunder the sun that had ony signification of a glutton in it, that shedidna ca' him by. Jock took the bite wi' the buffet;--he heard a' theill names, and munched away. Oh, how his heart did rejoice o'er a fatlunch o' beef, a good haggis, or even a cog o' milk brose! Poor fellow!such things were his joy and delight. So he snapped them up, and in twoor three hours after he was as ready for another battle as ever.
This was a terrible life to lead. Times grew aye the langer the waur;and Marion was obliged to hire poor Jock to Goodman Niddery, to herd hiskye and his pet sheep. Jock had nae thoughts at a' o' ganging to sic ajob at first; but Marion tauld him ilka day o' the fat beef, the hugekebbucks, and the parridge sae thick that a horn-spoon wadna delve intothem, till he grew impatient for the term day. That day came at length,and Marion went away hame wi' her son to introduce him. The road wasgayan lang, and Jock's crappin began to craw. He speered a hunder timesabout the meat at Goodman Niddery's house, and every answer that Mariongae was better than the last, till Jock believed he was gaun home to acontinual feast. It was a delightful thought, for the craving appetitewithin him was come to a great height. They reached the place, and wentinto the kitchen. Jock's een were instantly on the look-out; but theydidna need to range far. Above the fire there hung two sides of baconmore than three inches deep of fat, besides many other meaner objects:The hind legs of bullocks, sheep, and deer, were also there; but thesewere withered, black, and sapless in appearance. Jock thought the very
substance was dried out o' them. But the bacon! How it did make Jocksmack his lips! It was so juicy that even the brown bristly skin on theoutside of it was all standing thick o' eenbright beaming drops likemorning dew. Jock was established at Goodman Niddery's; he would nothave flitted again and left these two sides of bacon hanging there foran estate. Marion perceived well where the sum of his desires was fixed,and trembled for fear of an instant attack: Well might she; for Jock hada large dirk or sheathed knife (a very useful weapon) that he wore, andthat he took twice out of its place, looked at its edge, and then at theenormous bacon ham, which was more than three inches deep of solid fat,with the rich drops of juice standing upon the skin. Jock drew his knifeon his sandal, then on the edge of a wooden table that stood beside him,examined the weapon's edge again, and again fixed his green eyes on thebacon. "What do the people mean," thought he to himself, "that they donot instantly slice down a portion of that glorious meat, and fry it onthe coals? Would they but give me orders to do it,--would they even giveme the least hint, how slashingly I would obey!"
None of them had the good sense to give Jock ony sic orders. He was twoor three times on the very point of helping himself, and at last got upon his feet, it was believed, for the sole purpose of making an attackon the bacon ham, when, behold, in came Goodman Niddery.
"There's your master, sirrah!" whispered Marion, "haste ye and whup affyour bonnet."
Jock looked at him. There was something very severe and forbidding inhis countenance; so Jock's courage failed him, and he even took aff hisbonnet, and sat down with that in his one hand and the drawn knife inthe other. Marion's heart was greatly relieved, and she now ventured ona little conversation:
"I hae brought you hame my lad, Goodman, and I hope he'll be a goodservant to you."
"I coudna say, Marion: Gin he be as gude as you ca'ed him, he'll do. Ithink he looks like ane that winna be behind at his bicker."
"Ay, weel I wat, Goodman, and that's true; and I wadna wish it wereotherwise. Slaw at the meat, slaw at the wark, ye ken."
"That _is_ a good hint o' my mother's!" thinks Jock to himsel: "Whatthough I should show the auld niggard a sample? The folk o' this housesurely hae nae common sense."
The dinner was now, however, set down on the kitchen-table. The goodmansat at the head, the servants in a row on each side, and Jock and hismother at the foot. The goodwife stood behind her servants, and gave alltheir portions. The dinner that day consisted of broad bannocks, as hardas horn, a pail of thin sour milk, called whig, and a portion of a largekebbuck positively as dry as wood. Jock was exceedingly dissatisfied,and could not but admire the utter stupidity of the people, and theirtotal want of all proper distinction. He thought it wonderful thatrational creatures should not know what was good for them. He munched,and munched, and gnawed at the hard bread and cheese, till his jaws weresore; but he never once looked at the food before him; but leaning hischeek on his hand to rest his wearied grinders somewhat at every bite hetook, and every splash of the sour shilpy milk that he lapped in, helifted his eyes to the fat bacon ham with the juice standing on it inclear bells.
Marion wished herself fairly out of the house, for she perceived therewould be an outbreak; and to prepare the good people for whatever mighthappen, she said before going away,--"Now, goodwife, my callant's banesare green, and he's a fast growing twig; I want to ken if he will getplenty o' meat here."
"I winna answer for that, Marion;--he shall fare as the lave fare; buthe's may-be no very easily served. There are some misleared servants whathink they never get enough."
"Tell me this thing, then, goodwife; will he see enough?"
"Ay; I shall answer for that part o't."
"Then I shall answer for the rest, goodwife."
Jock had by this time given up contending with the timber cheese, andthe blue sour milk, and, taking a lug of a bannock in his hand, thesize of a shoe sole, he went away and sat down at the fire-side, wherehe had a full view of the bacon ham, three inches thick of fat, with thedew standing on its brown skin.
The withered bread swallowed rather the better of this delicious sight;so Jock chewed and looked, and looked and chewed, till his motherentered into the security mentioned. "That is a capital hint," thoughtJock; "I shall verify my good mother's cautionry, for I can stand thisnae langer." He sprang up on a seat, sliced off a large flitch of bacon,and had it on the coals before one had time to pronounce a word; andthen turning his back to it, and his face to the company, he stood withhis drawn dirk quite determined to defend his prey.
The goodwife spoke first up. "Gudeness have a care o' us! see to themenseless tike!" cried she; "I declare the creature has na the breedingo' a whalp!"
Jock was well used to such kind of epithets; so he bore this and somemore with the utmost suavity, still, however, keeping his ground.
Goodman Niddery grinned, and his hands shook with anger, as if struckwith a palsy; but for some reason or other he did not interfere. Theservants were like to burst with laughter; and Jock kept the goodwife atbay with his drawn knife, till his slice was roasted; and then, layingit flat on his dry piece of bread, he walked out to the field to enjoyit more at leisure. Marion went away home; and the goodman and goodwifeboth determined to be revenged on Jock, and to make him pay dear for hisaudacity.
Jock gave several long looks after Marion as she vanished on Kettlemoor,but he had left no kind of meat in her shieling when he came away, elseit was likely he would have followed his mother home again. He was stillsmacking his lips after his rich repast, and he had seen too much goodstuff about the house of his new master to leave it at once; so he waseven fain to bid Marion good-b'ye in his heart, wipe the filial tearfrom his eye, poor man, and try to reconcile himself to his newsituation.
"Do you carry aye that lang gully knife about wi' you, master cow-herd,or how do they ca' ye?" said his master, when they next met after theadventure of the bacon.
"I hae aye carried it yet," said Jock, with great innocence; "and a gaygude whittle it is."
"Ye maun gie that up," said Niddery; "we dinna suffer chaps like you tocarry sic weapons about our house."
Jock fixed his green eyes on his master's face. He could hardly believehim to be serious; still there was something in his look he did notlike; so he put his knife deeper into his pocket, drew one step back,and, putting his under row of teeth in front of those above, waited theissue of such an unreasonable demand.
"Come, come; give it up I say. Give it to me; I'll dispose of it foryou."
"I'll see you at the bottom o' the place my mother speaks about whiles,"thought Jock to himself, afore I gi'e my gully either to you or onythat belangs to you." He still kept his former position, however, andthe same kind of look at his master's face, only his een grew rathergreener.
"Won't you give it up, you stubborn thief? Then I will take it, and giveyou a good drubbing into the bargain."
When Jock heard this, he pulled out his knife. "That is a good lad to doas you are bidden," said his master. But Jock, instead of delivering uphis knife, drew it from the sheathe, which he returned to his pocket."Now I sal only say this," said he; "the first man that tries to take myain knife frae me--he may do it--but he shall get the length o't in hismonyplies first." So saying, he drew back his hand with a sudden jerk.
Goodman Niddery gave such a start that he actually leaped off theground, and holding up both his hands, exclaimed, "What a savage we havegot here! what a satan!" And without speaking another word he ran awayto the house, and left Jock standing with his drawn knife in his hand.
The goodman's stomach burned with revenge against Jock; so that nighthe sent him supperless to bed, out of requital for the affair of the fatbacon; and next day the poor boy was set down to a very scantybreakfast, which was not fair. His eye turning invariably to onedelicious object, the goodman perceived well what was passing in hisheart; and, on some pretence, first sent away all the servants and thenthe goodwife. He next rose up himself, with his staff in his hand, and,going slowly away into the l
ittle parlour, said, as he went through thekitchen, "What can be become o' a' the fo'k?" and with that entered thedark door that opened in a corner. He made as though he had shut thedoor, but he turned about within it and peeped back.
The moment that he vanished was the watch-word for Jock; he sprang fromhis seat at the bottom of the table, and, mounting a form, began towhang away at the bacon ham. Some invidious bone, or hard object of somesort, coming unfortunately in contact with the edge of his knife, hisprogress was greatly obstructed; and though he cut and sawed with allhis might, before he succeeded in separating a piece of about two poundsweight from the main body, his master had rushed on him from hisconcealment, and, by one blow of his staff, laid him flat on the floor.The stroke was a sore one, for it was given with extreme good will, anddeprived Jock of sensibility for the time being. He and his form bothcame down with a great rumble, but the knife remained buried in the fatbacon ham; and the inveterate goodman was not satisfied with felling thepoor lad, but kicked him, and laid on him with his stick after he wasdown. The goodwife at length came running, and put a stop to thiscruelty; and fearing the boy was murdered, and that they would be hangedfor it, she got assistance, and soon brought Jock again to himself.
Jock had been accustomed to fight for his meat, and, in some measurelaid his account with it, so that, on the whole, he took his broken headas little to heart as could have been expected,--certainly less than anyother boy of the same age would have done. It was only a little morerough than he had been prepared to look for; but had he succeeded in hisenterprise, he would not have been ill content. The goodwife and hermaids had laid him on a kitchen bed and bathed his temples; and onrecovering from stupefaction, the first thing he did was to examine hispockets to see if he had his gully. Alak! there was nothing but theempty sheathe. Then he _did_ lose the field, and fell a blubbering andcrying. The goodwife thought he was ill, and tried to sooth him bygiving him some meat. He took the meat of course, but his heart wasinconsolable; till, just when busy with his morsel, his eye chanced totravel to the old place as if by instinct, and there he beheld the haftof his valued knife sticking in the bacon ham, its blade being burieddeep in sappy treasures. He sprang over the bed, and traversing thefloor with staggering steps, mounted a form, and stretched forth hishand to possess himself again of his gully.
"Aih! Gudeness have a care o' us," cried the goodwife; "saw ever onybody the like o' that? The creature's bacon mad! Goodman! goodman, comehere!"
Jock, however, extricated his knife and fled, though he could scarcelywell walk. Some of the maids averred that he at the same time slid acorner of the ham into his pocket; but it is probable they belied him,for Jock had been munching in the bed but the moment before.
He then went out to his cows, weak as he was. He had six cows, somemischievous calves, and ten sheep to herd; and he determined to takegood care of these, as also, now that he had got his knife again, not towant his share of the good things about the house, of which he saw therewas abundance. However, several days came and went, and Jock was soclosely watched by his master and mistress all the time he was in thehouse, that he could get nothing but his own scanty portion. What wasmore, Jock was obliged every day to drive his charge far a-field, andremain with them from morn till evening. He got a few porridge in themorning, and a hard bannock and a bottle of sour milk to carry alongwith him for his dinner. This miserable meal was often despatched beforeeleven o'clock, so that poor Jock had to spend the rest of the day infasting, and contriving grand methods of obtaining some good meat infuture.
There was one thing very teasing: He had a small shieling, which someformer herd had built, and plenty of sticks to burn for the gathering orcutting. He had thus a fire every day, without any thing to roast on it.Jock sat over it often in the most profound contemplation, thinking howdelightfully a slice of bacon would fry on it,--how he would lay theslice on his hard bannock, and how the juice would ooze out of it! Neverwas there a man who had richer prospects than Jock had: still hishappiness lay only in perspective. But experience teaches man wisdom,and wisdom points out to him many expedients.
Among Jock's fat sheep there was one fat ewe lamb, the flower of theflock, which the goodwife and the goodman both loved and valued aboveall the rest. She was as beautiful and playful as innocence itself, and,withal, _as fat as she could lie in her skin_. There was one rueful day,and a hungry one, that Jock had sat long over his little fire of sticks,pondering on the joys of fat flesh. He went out to turn his mischievouscalves, whose nebs were never out of an ill deed, and at that time theyhad strayed into the middle of a corn field. As bad luck would have it,by the way he perceived this dawted ewe lamb lying asleep in the sun;and, out of mere frolic, as any other boy would have done, he flew onabove her and tried if he could hold her down. After hard struggling hemastered her, took her between his feet, stroked her snowy fleece andsoft downy cheek, and ever, as he patted her, repeated these words, "Obut ye be a bonny beast!"
The lamb, however, was not much at her ease; she struggled a little nowand then, but finding that it availed not, she gave it over; and seeingher comrades feeding near her, she uttered some piteous bleats. Theycould afford her no assistance, but they answered her in the sametremulous key. After patting her a good while, Jock began to handle herbreast and ribs, and found that she was in good earnest _as fat aspork_. This was a ticklish experiment for the innocent lamb. Jock wasseized with certain inward longings and yearnings that would not berepressed. He hesitated long, long, and sometimes his pity awoke,--butthere was another natural feeling that proved the stronger of the two;so Jock at length took out his long knife and unsheathed it. Next heopened the fleece on the lamb's throat till its bonny white skin waslaid bare, and not a hair of wool to intervene between it and the pointof his knife. He was again seized with deep remorse, as he contemplatedthe lamb's harmless and helpless look; so he wept aloud, and tried toput his knife again into its sheathe, but he could not.
To make a long tale short, Jock took away the lamb's life, and that notin the most gentle or experienced way. She made no resistance, and onlyuttered one bleat. "Poor beast!" said Jock; "I dare-say ye like thisvery ill, but I canna help it. Ye are suffering for a' your bits o' illdone deeds now."
The day of full fruition and happiness for Jock was now arrived. Beforeevening he had roasted and eaten the kidneys, and almost the whole ofthe draught or pluck. His heart rejoiced within him, for never was theremore delicious food. But the worst of it was, that the devils of calveswere going all the while in the middle of a corn field, which his mastersaw from the house, and sent one running all the way to turn them. Theman had also orders to "waken the dirty blackguard callant if he wassleeping, and gie him his licks."
Jock was otherwise employed; but, as luck would have it, the man did notcome into his hut, nor discover his heinous crime; for Jock met himamong the corn, and took a drubbing with all proper decorum.
But dangers and suspicions encompassed poor Jock now on every side. Hesat down to supper at the bottom of the board with the rest of theservants, but he could not eat a single morsel. His eyes were not fixedon the bacon ham as usual, and moreover they had quite lost that sharpgreen gleam for which they were so remarkable. These were circumstancesnot to be overlooked by the sharp eyes of his master and mistress.
"What's the matter wi' the bit dirty callant the night?" said thelatter. "What ails you, sirrah, that you hae nae ta'en your supper? Areyou weel eneugh?"
Jock wasna ill, he said; but he could not enter into particulars aboutthe matter any farther. The goodman said, he feared the blade had beenstealing, for he did not kythe like ane that had been fasting a' day;but after the goodwife and he had examined the hams, kebbucks, beefbarrel, meal girnel, and every place about the house, they could discernnothing amissing, and gave up farther search, but not suspicion.
Jock trembled lest the fat lamb might be missed in the morning when hedrove out his flock, but it was never remarked that the lamb wasa-wanting. He took very little breakfast, but drove hi
s kine and sheep,and the devils of calves, away to the far field, and hasted to his weehousie. He borrowed a coal every day from a poor woman, who lived in acot at the road side, to kindle his fire, and that day she noticed whatnone else had done, that his coat was all sparked over with blood, andasked him of the reason. Jock was rather startled by the query, and gaveher a very suspicious look, but no other answer.
"I fear ye hae been battling wi' some o' your neighbours," said she.
This was a great relief for Jock's heart. "Ay, just that," said he, andwent away with his coal.
What a day of feasting Jock had! He sliced and roasted, and roasted andate till he could hardly walk. Once when the calves were going into amischief, which they were never out of, he tried to run, but he couldnot run a foot; so he was obliged to lie down and roll himself on theground, take a sleep, and then proceed to work again.
There was nutrition in the very steams that issued from Jock's hut; thewinds that blew over it carried health and savoury delight over a greatextent of country. A poor hungry boy that herded a few lean cows on anadjoining farm, chancing to come into the track of this deliciousbreeze, became at once like a statue. He durst not move a step for fearof losing the delicious scent; and there he stood with his one footbefore the other, his chin on his right shoulder, his eyes shut and hismouth open, his nose being pointed straight to Jock's wee housie. Thebreeze still grew richer, till at last it led him as straight as therehad been a hook in his nose to Jock's shieling; so he popped in, andfound Jock at the sublime employment of cooking and eating. The boygaped and stared at the mangled body of the lamb, and at the rich repastthat was going on; but he was a very ignorant and stupid boy, and couldnot comprehend any thing; so Jock fed him with a good fat piece wellroasted, and let him go again to his lean cows.
Jock looked very plump and thriving-like that night; his appearance wasquite sleek, somewhat resembling that of a young voluptuary; and, tolull suspicion, he tried to take some supper, but not one bite or soapwas he able to swallow. The goodwife, having by that time satisfiedherself that nothing was stolen, became concerned about Jock, and wantedhim to swallow some physic, which he peremptorily refused to do.
"How can the puir thing tak ony meat?" said she. "He's a' swalled i' thebelly. Indeed I rather suspect that he's swalled o'er the hale body."
The next morning, as Jock took out his drove, the goodman was standingat the road side to look at them. Jock's heart grew cold, as well itmight, when the goodman called out to him, "Callant, what hae you madeo' the gude lamb?"
"Is she no there?" said Jock, after a long pause, for he was so muchastounded that he could not speak at the first.
"Is she no there!" cried the goodman again in great wrath, imitatingJock's voice; "If ye binna blind, ye may see that. But I can tell you,my man, gin ye hae letten ought happen to that lamb, ye had better neverhae been born."
"What can be comed o' the beast?" said Jock; "I had better look thehouse, she's may be stayed in by herself."
Jock didna wait for an order, but, glad to be a little farther off fromhis master, he ran back and looked the fold and sheep-house, and everynettle bush around them, as he had been looking for a lost knife.
"I can see naething o' her," said he, as he came slounging back, hanginghis head, and keeping aloof from the goodman, who still carried his longpike staff in his hand.
"But I'll mak you see her, and find her baith, hang-dog," said he; "ordeil be in my fingers an I dinna twist your neck about. Are you sure youhad her yestreen?"
O yes! Jock was sure he had her yestreen. The women were examined ifthey had observed her as they milked the cows. They could not tell. Noneof them had seen her; but they could not say she was not there. All wasin commotion about the steading, for the loss of the dawted pet lamb,which was a favourite with every one of the family.
Jock drove his cattle and nine sheep to the field--roasted a good collopor two of his concealed treasure, and snapped them up, but found thatthey did not relish so well as formerly; for now that his strongappetite for fat flesh was somewhat allayed, yea even fed to loathing,he wished the lamb alive again: He began, moreover, to be in greatbodily fear; and to provide against the probability of any discoverybeing made, he lifted the mangled remains of his prey, and conveyed theminto an adjoining wood, where he covered them carefully up with witheredleaves, and laid thorns above them, "Now!" said Jock, as he left thethicket, "let them find that out wha can."
The goodman went to all the herds around enquiring after his lamb, butcould hear no intelligence of her till he came to the cottage of poorBessie, the old woman that had furnished Jock with a coal every day.When he put the question to her, the rock and the lint fell out ofBessie's hand, and she sat a while quite motionless.
"What war ye saying, goodman? War ye saying ye had lost your bonnie petlamb?"
"Even sae, Bessie."
"Then, goodman, I fear you will never see her living again. What kind o'callant is that ye hae gotten? He's rather a suspicious looking chap. Itentit his claes a' spairged wi' blude the tither day, and baith thisand some days bygane he has brought in his dinner to me, saying that hedought nae eat it."
Goodman Niddery could make no answer to this, but sat for a whilegrumphing and groaning as some late events passed over his mind;particularly how Jock's belly was swollen, and how he could not take anysupper. But yet the idea that the boy had killed his favourite, andeaten her, was hardly admissible: the deed was so atrocious he could notconceive any human being capable of it, strong as circumstances wereagainst his carnivorous herd. He went away with hurried and impatientsteps to Jock's wee house, his old colley dog trotting beforehim, and his long pike-staff in his hand. Jock eyed him at a distance,and kept out of his path, pretended to be engaged in turning the calvesto a right pasture, and running and threshing them with a long goad; forthough they were not in any mischief then, he knew that they would soonbe in some.
The goodman no sooner set his nose within Jock's shieling than he wasconvinced some horrid deed had been done. It smelled like a cook'slarder; and, moreover, his old dog, who had a very good scent, wasscraping among the ashes, and picking up fragments of something which heseemed very much to enjoy. Jock did not know what to do when he saw howmatters stood, yet he still had hopes that nothing would appear tocriminate him. The worst thing that he saw was the stupid hungered boyon the adjoining farm coming wading through the corn. He had left hisdirty lean kine picking up the very roots of the grass, and had comesnouking away in hopes of getting another fat bit for his impoverishedstomach. But, when he saw Goodman Niddery come out of the cot withimpassioned strides, he turned and ran through the strong corn with hiswhole might, always jumping up as he proceeded.
The goodman called angrily on his old dog to come after him, but hewould not come, for he was working with his nose and fore feet amongJock's perfumed ashes with great industry; so the goodman turned backinto the house, and hit him over the back with his long pike-staff,which made him glad to give over, and come out about his business; andaway the two went to reconnoitre further.
As soon as the old dog was fairly a-field again, he took up the verytrack by which Jock had carried the carcase that morning, and went asstraight as a line to the hidden treasure in the thicket. The goodmantook off the thorns, and removed the leaves, and there found all thatremained of his favourite and beautiful pet lamb. Her throat was all cutand mangled, her mouth open, and her tongue hanging out, and about onehalf of her whole body a-wanting. The goodman shed tears of grief, andwept and growled with rage over the mangled form, and forthwith resolved(which was hardly commendable) to seize Jock, and bring him to that veryspot and cut his throat.
Jock might have escaped with perfect safety had he had the sense orforesight to have run off as soon as he saw his master enter the wood;but there seems to be an infatuation that directs the actions of somemen. Jock did not fly, but went about and about, turning his kine onewhile, his nine sheep another, and always between hands winning a peltat one of the ill-conditio
ned calves, till his incensed master returnedfrom the fatal discovery, and came up to him. There was one excuse forhim, he was not sure if the carcase had been found, for he could not seefor the wood whether or not his master went to the very place, and henever thought of the sagacity of the dog.
When Goodman Niddery first left the wood, he was half running, and hisknees were plaiting under him with the anticipation of horrid revenge.Jock did not much like his gait; so he kept always the herd of cows, andthe sheep too, betwixt himself and this half-running master of his. Butthe goodman was too cunning for poor Jock; he changed his step into avery slow careless walk, and went into the middle of the herd of cows,pretending to be whistling a tune, although it was in fact no tune, butmerely a concatenation of tremulous notes on C sharp, without the leastfall of harmony. He turned about this cow and the other cow, watchingJock all the while with the tail of his eye, and trilling his hatefulwhistle. Jock still kept a due distance. At length the goodman called tohim, "Callant, come hither, like a man, and help me to wear this cowagainst the ditch. I want to get haud o' her."
Jock hesitated. He did not like to come within stroke of his master'slong stick, neither did he know on what pretence absolutely to refusehis bidding; so he stood still, and it was impossible to know by hislooks whether he was going to comply or run off altogether. His masterdreaded the latter, and called to him in a still kinder manner, untilJock at last unfortunately yielded. The two wore the cow, and wore thecow, up against the ditch, until the one was close upon her one side,and the other upon her other. "Chproo! hawkie! chproo, my bonnie cow!"cried the goodman, spreading out his arms, with his pike-staff clenchedfast in his right hand; then springing by the cow in a moment, he flewupon Jock, crying out, with the voice of a demon, "D--n you, rascal! butI'll do for you now!"
Jock wheeled about to make his escape, and would have beat his masterhollow, had he been fairly started, or timeously apprised of hisdreadful danger; but ere he had run four or five steps the pike-staffcame over the links of his neck such a blow that it laid him flat on hisface in a mire. The goodman then seized him by the cuff of the neck withthe one hand, and by the hair of his head with the other, and said, witha triumphant and malicious laugh, "Now, get up, and come away wi' me, mybraw lad, and I'll let you see sic a sight as you never saw. I'll letyou see a wally-dy sight! Get up, like a good cannie lad!"
As he said this he pulled Jock by the hair, and kicked him with hisfoot, until he obliged him to rise, and in that guise he led him away tothe wood. He had a hold of his rough weatherbeaten hair with the onehand, and with the other he heaved the cudgel over him; and as they wentthe following was some of the discourse that passed between them.
"Come away, now, my fine lad. Are nae ye a braw, honest, good callant?Do nae ye think ye deserve something that's unco good frae me? Eh? Ay,ye surely deserve something better nor ordinar': And ye shall hae ittoo."--(Then a kick on the posteriors, or a lounder with thestaff.)--"Come your ways like a sonsy, brave callant, and I'll let yousee a bonny thing and a braw thing in yon brake o' the wood, ye ken."
Jock cried so piteously that, if his master had not had a heart ofstone, he would have relented, and not continued in his fatal purpose;but he only grew the longer the more furious.
"O let me gang! let me gang! let me gang!" cried Jock. "Let me gang! letme gang! for it wasna me. I dinna ken naething about it ata'!"
"Ye dinna ken naething about what, my puir man?"
"About yon bit sheep i' the wood, ye ken."
"You rascal! you rogue! you villain! you have confessed that you kendabout it, when I wasna speiring ony sic question at you. You hound! youdog! you savage wolf that you are! Mother of God! but I will do for you!You whelp! you dog! you scoundrel! come along here." (Another hardblow.) "Tell me now, my precious lad, an ye war gaun to be killed, as yeken something about killing, whether would you choose to have yourthroat cut, or to have your feet tied and be skinned alive?"
"O dinna kill me! dinna kill me!" cried poor Jock. "My dear master,dinna kill me, for I canna brook it. Oh, oh! an ye kill me I'll tell mymother, that will I; and what will Marion say t'ye, when she has nanebut me? Oh master, dinna kill me, and I'll never do the like o't again!"
"Nay, I shall take warrant for that: you shall never do the like o'tagain!"
In this melancholy and heart-breaking manner he dragged him on all theway by the rough towsy head, kicking him one while, and beating himanother, till he brought him to the very spot where the mangled remainsof the pet lamb were lying. It was a blasting sight for poor Jock,especially as it doubled his master's rage and stern revenge, and thesewere, in all conscience, high enough wrought before. He twined thehapless culprit round by the hair, and knocked him with his fist, for hehad dropped the staff to enable him to force Jock to the place ofsacrifice; and he swore by many an awful oath, that if it should costhim his life, he would do to Jock as he had done to that innocent lamb.
With that he threw him on the ground, and got above him with his knees;and Jock having by that time lost all hope of moving his ruthlessmaster by tears or prayers, began a struggling with the force whichdesperation sometimes gives, and fought with such success that it waswith difficulty his master could manage him.
It was very much like a battle between an inveterate terrier and a bulldog; but, in spite of all that Jock could do, the goodman got out hisknife. It was not, however, one like Jock's, for it had a folding blade,and was very hard to open, and the effecting of this was no easy task,for he could not get both his hands to it. In this last desperatestruggle, Jock got hold of his master's cheek with his left hand, andhis nails being very long, he held it so strait that he was like to tearit off. His master capered up with his head, holding it back the fulllength of Jock's arm; yet still being unable to extricate his cheek fromJock's hold, he raised up his knife in his right hand in order to openit with his teeth, and, in the first place, to cut off Jock's hand, andhis head afterwards. He was holding down Jock with his right knee andhis left hand; and while in the awkward capering attitude of openinghis knife, his face was turned nearly straight up, and his eyes hadquite lost sight of his victim. Jock held up his master's cheek, andsqueezed it still the more, which considerably impeded his progress ingetting the knife open; and, at that important moment, Jock whipped outhis own knife, his old dangerous friend, and struck it into thegoodman's belly to the haft. The moment he received the wound he sprangup as if he had been going to fly into the air, uttered a loud roar, andfell back above his dead pet lamb.
Lord, how Jock ran! He was all bespattered with blood, some of it hisown, and some of it his master's; wanted the bonnet, and had the bloodyknife in his hand; and was, without all doubt, a wild frightsome-lookingboy. As he sped through the wood, he heard the groans and howls of hismaster in the agonies of death behind him. Every one of them added toJock's swiftness, till it actually became beyond the speed of mortalman. If it be true that love lends a pair of wings, fear, mortal fear,lends two pair. There is nought in life I regret so much as that I didnot see Jock in this flight; it must have been such an extraordinaryone. There was poor Jock flying with the speed of a fox from all theworld, and yet still flying into the world. He had no home, no kindredto whom he durst now retreat, no hold of any thing in nature, save ofhis own life and his good whittle; and he was alike unwilling to partwith either of these. The last time he was seen was by two women onKirtle-common. He appeared sore bespent, but was still running on withall his might.
The goodman was found before the evening, but only lived to tell how hehad come by his end. All his friends and servants were raised, and sentin pursuit of Jock. How he eluded them no man knows; but from that dayMarion's Jock has never been more seen or heard of in this land.