XXI
'HULLO, GLESCA HIELANDERS!'
Like a trodden, forgotten thing Private Macgregor Robinson lay onthe Flanders mud, under the murk and rain. A very long time itseemed since that short, grim struggle amid the blackness andintermittent brightness. The night was still rent with noise andlight, but the storm of battle had passed from the place where hehad fallen. He could not tell whether his fellows had taken theenemy's trench or retired to their own. He had the vaguest ideasas to where he was. But he knew that there was pain in his leftshoulder and right foot, that he was athirst, also that he hadkilled a man--a big stout man, old enough to have been his father.He tried not to think of the last, though he did not regret it: ithad been a splendid moment.
He was not the only soldier lying there in the mud, but the others,friend or foe, were quite still. The sight of them in the flashesdistressed him, yet always his gaze drifted back to them. His mindwas a medley of thoughts, from the ugliest to the loveliest. Atlast, for he was greatly exhausted, his head drooped to hisuninjured arm, his eyes closed. For a while he dozed. Thensomething disturbed him, and he raised himself and peered. In theflicker of a distant flare he saw a shape approaching him, crawlingon hands and knees, very slowly, pausing for an instant at eachstill figure. It made Macgregor think of a big dog searching forits master--only it wore a helmet. Macgregor, setting his teeth,drew his rifle between his knees and unfixed the bayonet. . . .
'Hist! Is that you, Macgreegor?'
'Wullie!'
'Whisht, ye----!'
'Oh, Wullie'--in a whisper--'I'm gled to see ye!'
'I believe ye!' gasped Willie, and flattened out at his friend'sside, breathing heavily. At the end of a minute or so--'Ha'e yegot it bad, Macgreegor?' he inquired.
'So, so. Arm an' leg. I'm feelin' rotten, but I'm no finishedyet. Ha'e ye ony water? Ma bottle's shot through.'
'Here ye are. . . . Feelin' seeck-like?'
'I'm seeck at gettin' knocked oot at the vera beginnin.'
'Never heed. Did ye kill yer man?'
'Ay.'
'Same here. . . . In the back. . . . Ma Goad!'
'Ha'e we ta'en their trench?'
'Ay; but no enough o' us to haud it.
We're back in the auld place. Better luck next time. No safe tostrike a match here; could dae fine wi' a fag.'
There was a silence between them, broken at last by Macgregor.
'Hoo did ye find me, Wullie? What way are ye no back in thetrench?'
'Wasna gaun back wi'oot ye--I seen ye drap--even if ye had been acorp. . . . Been snokin' aroun' seekin' ye for Guid kens hoo lang.I'm fair hingin' wi' glaur.'
'. . . I'm obleeged to ye, Wullie, but ye shouldna ha'e done it.Whauraboots are we?'
'I wisht I was sure. Lost ma bearin's. I doobt we're nearer theGermans nor oor ain lot. That's the reason I'm weerin' thisdish-cover. But it's your turn to weer it. Ye've been woundeda'ready.'
'Na, na, Wullie!'
'Dae what I tell ye, ye ----!' Willie made the exchange ofheadgear. . . . 'I say, Macgreegor!'
'What?'
'This is Flanders. Ye mind oor bet? Weel, we're quits noo. I'mno owin' ye onything--eh?'
Macgregor grinned in spite of everything. 'Ay, we're quits noo,Wullie, sure enough.'
'If ever we get oot o' this, will ye len' us dew francs?'
''Deed, ay. . . . Wullie, ye're riskin' yer life for me.'
'Awa' an' chase yersel'! I wonder what that girl o' yours isthinkin' aboot the noo--if she's no sleepin'.'
There was a pause till Macgregor said awkwardly: 'Christina'sfinished wi' me.'
'Eh?'
'I couldna tell ye afore; but she had got wind o' Maggie.'
'Maggie! Oh, hell! But no frae me, Macgreegor, no frae me! Yebelieve that?'
'Oh, ay.'
Willie let off sundry curses. 'But I suppose I'm to blame,' hesaid bitterly.
'Naebody to blame but masel'.'
'But did ye no explain to Christina? A' ye did was to canoodle wi'the wrang girl, pro tem.--a thing that happens daily. I couldnafancy a girl that naebody had ever wanted to cuddle; an' if I was agirl I couldna fancy a chap that----'
'Nae use talkin' aboot it, Wullie,' Macgregor said sadly, wearily.
'Aw, but her an' you 'll mak' it up afore ye're done. If ye dinna,I'll want to kill masel' an' Maggie forbye. A' the same, I wishtfat Maggie was here the noo. I could dae fine wi' a bit squeeze.'
'My! ye're a fair treat!' said Macgregor, chuckling in his misery.
''_Sh_! Keep still! Something comin'!'
The distant gun-fire had diminished. There were appreciablesilences between the blasts. But during a flash Macgregor detecteda helmeted crawling shape. Willie's hand stole out and grasped thebayonet.
'Number twa!' he muttered, with a stealthy movement. 'I maun gethim!'
But Macgregor's ears caught a faint sound that caused him to gripthe other's wrist.
'Wait,' he whispered.
The helmeted shape came on, looking neither to right nor left, andas it came it sobbed. And it passed within a few yards of them,and into the deeper gloom, sobbing, sobbing.
'Oh, Christ!' sighed Willie, shuddering.
'Put yer arm roun' me, Mac. I'm feart.'
Five minutes later he affected to jeer at himself. 'Weel, I'mrested noo,' he continued, 'an' it's time we was gettin' a move on.Mornin's comin', an' if we're spotted here, we're done for. Can yecreep?'
Macgregor tried and let out a little yelp.
'Na, ye canna. Ye'll jist ha'e to get on ma back.'
'Wullie, gang yersel'----'
'Obey yer corporal!'
'Ye're no a corp----'
'If they dinna mak' me a corporal for this, I'll quit the service!Onyway, I'm no gaun wi'oot ye. Same time, I canna guarantee no totak' ye to the German lines. But we maun risk that. Ye'll ha'e toleave yer rifle, but keep on the dish-cover till I gi'e ye theword. . . . Noo then! Nae hurry. I'll ha'e to creep the firstpart o' the journey. Are ye ready? Weel, here's luck to the twao' us!'
There is no authentic description of that horrible journey saveWillie's, which is unprintable.
It was performed literally by inches. More than once Williecollapsed, groaning, under his burden. Macgregor, racked as hewas, shed tears for his friend's sake. Time had no significanceexcept as a measure of suspense and torture. But Willie held on,directed by some instinct, it seemed, over that awfulshell-fragment-studded mire, round the verges of shell-formedcraters, past dead and wounded waiting for succour--on, on, tillthe very guns seemed to have grown weary, and the rain ceased, andthe air grew chillier as with dread of what the dawn shoulddisclose, and the blackness was diluted to grey.
'Drap the ---- dish-cover,' croaked Willie, and halted for aminute's rest.
Then on again. But at long last Willie muttered: 'I think it's oortrench. If I'm wrang, fareweel to Argyle Street! I'll ha'e torisk gi'ein' them a hail in case some silly blighter lets fly inthis rotten licht. Slip doon, Mac--nae hurry--nae use hurtin'yersel' for naething. I'll maybe ha'e to hurt ye in ameenute. . . . N' for it!' He lifted up his voice. 'Hullo,Glesca Hielanders!'
It seemed an age until--
'Right oh!' came a cheerful response.
'Hurray!' yelled Willie, and rose stiffly to his feet.
Then with a final effort, he gave Macgregor the 'fireman's lift,'and staggered and stumbled, amid shots from the other side, intosafety.
XXII
NO HERO, YET HAPPY
Christina was arranging the counter for the day's business when thepostman brought her a letter in a green envelope with the imprint'On Active Service'. Her heart leapt only to falter as her eyestook in the unfamiliar writing. Then under the 'Certificate' onthe left-hand side she perceived the signature--'W. Thomson.'Something dreadful must have happened! She sat down and gazed atthe envelope, fingering it stupidly. At last she pulled herselftogether and opened it. The letter was dirty, ill-w
ritten, badlyspelt; but so are many of the finest-spirited letters of these days.
'If you are wanting a perfeck man, by yourself a statute from themuesum. Then you can treat him cold and he will not nottice othergirls when you leav him for to enjoy yourself. Mac was not forhaveing anny when he first seen Maggie, but he was vext at you, andI eggged him on with telling him he was feared, and he took her ina cab becaus it was poring, and maybe he gave her a bit sqeese, Ido not no for certin, but it is more like she began it, for Maggiewoud rather take a cuddel nor a good dinner anny day. Likewizethere is times when a chap must sqeese something. It is no dashuse for a girl to expeck her intended to keep looking at her whenshe is not there, unless she makes it worth his while with niceletters and so fourth. He gets soon fed up on cold nothings. Macdoes not care a roten aple for Maggie, but you left him nothingbetter, and she is a nice girl and soft with a man, so God forgiveyou as I will not till I hear you are reddy to kiss him again. Macis wounded in 2 places, but not mortle. He got wounded saveing mylife. I am not wounded yet. He garded my back, which saved me.Probly you will see him soon, so prepare to behave yourself.Remmember you alowed me to kiss you??? Hopping you will take thisgood advice more kindly nor usual.
Yours resp. W. THOMSON, Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.
P.S.--If you was less proud and more cuddelsom, you woud not lossmuch fun in this world.--W. T., Lce. Corp. 9th H.L.I.
* * * * *
Macgregor was in a small hospital not far from London. While notto be described as serious, his wounds were likely to keep him outof action for several months to come. He was comfortable, and thepeople were very kind. Their English speech puzzled him almost asmuch as his Scotch amused them.
More tired than pained, he lay idly watching the play of light onhis old-fashioned ring, the gift of Mrs. McOstrich. It had reachedhim just before he was borne from France, too late, he thought, tobring him luck. But the only luck he wanted now was Christina. Hehad her brief note by heart. There was kindness but no comfort inthe words; forgiveness, maybe, but no promise of reconciliation.Truly he had made a horrid mess of it; nevertheless he rebelledagainst taking all the blame. Christina could not have cared muchwhen she would listen to no explanations. . . . Now he had a greatlonging for the touch of his mother and the smile of his father,the soft speech of Jeannie and the eager pipings of wee Jimsie.Also, he wondered, with a sort of ache, how Willie was faring.
A nurse appeared, sorted his pillow, chatted for a moment, thenwent and drew down the blinds against the afternoon sun. Andpresently Macgregor dropped into a doze.
He awoke to what seemed a dream. Of all people, Aunt Purdie wasseated at his bedside.
In a hesitating way, quite unlike her, she put out her hand, laidit on his and patted gently.
'What's up?' he exclaimed in astonishment.
'How do you do, Macgregor?' she said formally yet timidly.
'Fine, thenk ye,' he answered from sheer force of habit.Then--'Ye've come a lang road to see me,' he said, gratitudeasserting itself.
'It _is_ a conseederable distance,' she returned, with somerecovery of her old manner. 'Your uncle said I must go the momenthe heard where you were, and I quite homologated him. We was allcopiously relieved to hear of the non-seriosity of your wounds. Ihave letters for you from your parents and sister, forbye yourbrother James. Your mother was anxious to come, too, but decidedto wait for my report, your condeetion not being grave. All wellat home and proud of you, but I was en rout before I heard the mostgratifying news.' She cleared her throat with an important cough,and Macgregor hoped none of the other chaps in the ward werelistening. 'I am exceedingly proud of you, Macgregor!'
'Me? What for?'
'Ah, do not distimulate, my boy; do not be too modest. You havesaved a comrade's life! It was magneeficent!'
'Eh?'
'Oh, I know all about it--how you protected your friend Williamwith your wounded body----'
Macgregor's hand went to his head. 'I suppose I'm sober,' hemuttered. 'Wha was stuffin' ye wi' a' this, Aunt Purdie?'
Aunt Purdie's manner was almost sprightly as she whispered--
'Your betrothed!'
'Ma what?'
'Christina, her own self, told me. So there you are, young man!'
Macgregor's head wagged feebly on the pillow. 'There's a bonnymix-up somewhaur,' he said; 'it was Wullie saved ma life.' Then,with an effort--'When did ye see her?'
'Now understand, Macgregor, there must be no excitement. You mustkeep calm. I am doing my best to break it gently. H'm, h'm! As amatter of fac', I seen--saw--your fiancy about ten minutes ago.She is without!'
'Wi'oot what?'
'She is in an adjacent apartment.'
'Here?'
'I am going to despatch her to you now,' said Aunt Purdie, enjoyingherself thoroughly. 'But mind!--no deleterious excitement!' Sherose with a look on her gaunt face which he had never seen before.
'Aunt Purdie,' he whispered, 'did she _want_ to come?'
'My dear nephew, without exaggeration I may say that she fairlyjamp--jumped--at my invitation! Well, I'll see you subsequently.'
'God bless ye,' he murmured, and closed his eyes till he felt shehad gone from the ward.
He knew when Christina came in, but did not look directly at hertill she was beside him. By that time she had controlled thequiver at her mouth. And when he looked he realized that he had nodefence whatsoever in the Maggie affair. Nothing was left him butlove and regret.
She touched his hand and seated herself. 'I couldna help comin','she said, smiling. 'Are ye feelin' better?'
'Oh, ay. But I maun tell ye the truth.'
'No a word, Mac, noo or ever. I'll no listen.'
'But it's a' nonsense aboot me savin' a comrade. Wullie Thomsonsaved me. I canna think hoo ye heard sic a story, but it's got tobe stopped. An' though I'm terrible gled to see yer face again,I'm vexed ye cam' a' that lang road thinkin' I was a hero. Still,there's a chap in the next bed that's gaun to get a medal for----'
'We'll talk aboot it later,' she interrupted gently. 'But I'lljist tell ye that a' I took the journey for was to see a lad thatwas wounded. An' I think'--a faint laugh--'I've got a wound o' maain.'
He sighed, his eyes on his ring. 'Ye had aye a kind heart,Christina. I'm obleeged to ye for comin'. . . I wud like to tellye something--no as an excuse, for it wud be nae excuse, but jistto get quit o' the thing--aboot the time when ye was inAberdeen----'
'Oh, never!'
'Jist that. Weel, I'll no bother ye,' he said, with hopelessresignation. Next moment he was ashamed of himself. He mustchange the subject. He actually smiled. 'Hoo did ye leave MissTod? Still drinkin'?'
Christina may not have heard him. She was surveying the ward.Macgregor's only near neighbour was apparently sound asleep, andthe only patient sitting up was intent on a game of draughts with anurse. But had all been awake and watching, she would still havefound a way.
She passed her handkerchief lightly across her eyes and put it inher sleeve. Then with the least possible movement she knelt downby the bedside.
'Christina!' he exclaimed under his breath, for her face was nearto his.
Her fingers went to the neck of her white blouse and drew out anarrow black ribbon. From it hung, shining, the tiny wreckage ofher engagement ring.
'Mac, dear,' she whispered, 'can--can we no ha'e it mended?'
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