"But _my_ conscience," said Jock, "is no sae guid as yours or Peggy's, an' it'll be the better o' anither half-crown, in case I hae to sweer, to keep it frae botherin' me. But I'll gie ye credit for the money, an'

ye'll gie me credit for what I awe ye for my meat and lodgin' sin'

Monday."

"A' richt, a' richt, Jock; sae be't," replied Mrs. Craigie, as she went to fetch her neighbour, who lived on the same flat.

Mrs. Dalrymple was made a member of the privy council which met in a few minutes in Mrs. Craigie's room, the door being bolted.

"I'm nae hypocrite," confessed Jock. "I scorn to be ane, as ye do; for _ye_ dinna preten' to be unco guid, and better than ither folk, like Adam Mercer, or that G.o.dly man Smellie. I tell ye, then, I'm up to onything for money or drink. I'll steal, I'll rob, I'll murder, I'll----"

"Whisht, whisht, Jock! Dinna speak that wild way an' frichten folk!--Be canny, man, be canny, or the neebours 'll hear ye," said the prudent Mrs. Craigie, who forthwith explained her plan to her confidential and trustworthy friend, who highly approved of it as an act of justice to Mrs. Craigie, to Mary, and the Kirk Session. Half-a-crown was to be Mrs. Dalrymple's pay for her valued aid. Hall arranged that the moment the women saw the Sergeant coming from church, they were to give him a sign; and then they--leaving the window, and retiring behind the door--were to be ready to receive Mary and hold her fast when brought to the house. To enable Hall to execute the plot more easily, Mrs. Craigie gave him, at his own suggestion, in order to entice Mary, a few spring flowers she had got the evening before from a neighbour's garden, as a "posey" for the church--which she had not, however attended, being deprived of the privilege, as she meant to a.s.sure Smellie, by illness.

Jock had already accepted of a gla.s.s of whisky. But as the exciting moment approached, and as the two women had helped themselves to a cheerer, as they called it, he got a second gla.s.s to strengthen his courage. His courage, however, did not seem to fail him, for he once or twice whistled and hummed some song--to the great horror of his good friends; and, strange to say, he also fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter--at the thought, so he said, of how the old hypocrite and his wife would look when Mary was missed and found to be with Mrs. Craigie!

Much hearty sympathy was expressed with his strange humour.

The service in the "auld kirk", as the parish church is called, being over, the congregation were walking home. One or two of its members had already pa.s.sed the window where sat the eager and expectant conspirators. Jock Hall, with a bunch of flowers, was ready to run down-stairs, to the close mouth, the moment the appointed signal was given. Very soon the Sergeant and his wife made their appearance a little way off, while Mary--how fortunate for the plotters!--followed at some distance. No sooner were they discovered, than the two women retired from the window, and gave the signal to Hall to "be off!" They then ensconced themselves, as previously arranged, at the back of the door, with eager and palpitating hearts.

Jock sprang out, shutting the door after him, and rattling down-stairs reached the street just as Mary was within a few yards. When she was pa.s.sing the close, he stepped out, and with a kind voice, said: "I hae a message for your faither, Mary dear! Jist speak to me aff the street."

Mary, no longer a.s.sociating Hall with the thought of a wild man, but of one who had been a guest of the Sergeant's, entered the close. Jock Hall gave her the flowers and said: "Gie this posey to your mither, for the gran' tea she made for me; and gie this half-croon to yer faither for the braw boots he patched for me. Noo run awa', my bonnie la.s.sie, and be guid, and do whatever yer faither and mither bid ye, or Jock Hall wull be angry wi' ye--run!"

Mrs. Craigie, in her excitement and curiosity, could not resist the temptation of going again to the window, and no sooner had she seen Mary enter the close than she ran to her retreat behind the door, whispering joyfully to Mrs. Dalrymple, "The wee deevil is catched, and coming!"

In a moment Jock was at the door, and while he firmly held the key outside, he opened it so far as to let in his head. Then addressing the women, he said in an under-breath, or rather hiss: "Whisht! dinna speak!

I catched her! I gied her the posey for Mrs. Mercer--I gied her the half-croon to pay Mr. Mercer for my boots!--and she's hame!--an' ye'll never get her!--You twa limmers are cheated! If ye cheep, I'll tell the Shirra. Jock Hall is nae hypocrite! Deil tak' ye baith, and Smellie likewise! I'm aff!" and before a word could be spoken by the astonished conspirators, Jock locked the door upon them, and flinging the key along the pa.s.sage he sprang down-stairs and fled no one knew whither!

Mary gave the bouquet of flowers to Mrs. Mercer, whose only remark was: "Wha wad hae thocht it!" and she gave the half-crown to Adam, who said: "I never hae been as thankfu' for a day's wage! Pit it in the drawer, and keep it for Jock. I'm no feared but wi' G.o.d's help I'll mak' a sodger o' him yet! For as Charlie's bairn weel remarks: 'A man's a man for a' that'."

CHAPTER XV

JOCK HALL'S JOURNEY

John Spence, who, as we have seen, was connected with the early history of Adam Mercer, had now reached an extreme old age, somewhere between eighty and ninety years. As he himself for a considerable time had stuck to the ambiguous epoch of "aboon fourscore", it was concluded by his friends that his ninth decade had nearly ended. He was hale and hearty, however,--"in possession of all his faculties", as we say--with no complaint but "the rheumatics", which had soldered his joints so as to keep him generally a prisoner in the large chair "ayont the fire", or compel him to use crutches, when he "hirpled" across the floor. He was able, however, in genial weather, to occupy the bench at his cottage door, there to fondle the young dogs, and to cultivate the acquaintance of the old ones. He had long ago given up all active work, and was a pensioner on his Lordship; but he still tenaciously clung to the t.i.tle of "Senior Keeper". The vermin even which he had killed, and nailed, as a warning to evil-doers, over the gable-ends and walls of outhouses, had, with the exception of a few fragments of bleached fossils, long since pa.s.sed away, giving place to later remains.

John was a great favourite with his master; and his advice was asked in all matters connected with the game on the estate of Castle Bennock.

His anecdotes and reminiscences of old sporting days which he had spent with three generations of the family, and with generations of their friends and relations, were inexhaustible. And when the great annual festival of "the 12th" came round, and the Castle was crowded, and the very dogs seemed to snuff the game in the air and became excited, then John's cottage, with its kennels and all its belongings, was a constant scene of attraction to the sportsmen; and there he held a sort of court, with the dignity and gravity of an old Nimrod.

The cottage was beautifully situated in a retired nook at the entrance of a glen, beside a fresh mountain stream, and surrounded by a scattered wood of wild birches, mountain ash, and alder. The first ridge of Benturk rose beyond the tree tops, with an almost perpendicular ascent of loose stones, ribbed by wintry floods, and dotted by tufts of heather and dots of emerald-green pasture, up to the range of rocks which ramparted the higher peaks, around which in every direction descended and swept far away the endless moorland of hill and glen.

John had long been a widower, and now resided with his eldest son Hugh, whose hair was already mingled with white, like brown heather sprinkled with snow.

Although the distance which separated John Spence from Adam Mercer was only about thirty miles, there had been little intercourse between the cousins. A ridge of hills and a wild district intervened without any direct communication. The mail coach which pa.s.sed through Drumsylie did not come within miles of Castle Bennock. Letters, except on business, were rare between the districts, and were very expensive at that time to all but M.P.'s, who could frank them for themselves or their friends.

And so it was that while John and Adam occasionally heard of each other, and exchanged messages by mutual friends, or even met after intervals of years, they nevertheless lived as in different kingdoms.

It was late on the Tuesday after his flight that Jock Hall, for reasons known only to himself, entered the cottage of John Spence and walked up to the blazing fire, beside which the old keeper was seated alone.

"Wat day, Mr. Spence!" said Jock, as his clothes began to smoke almost as violently as the fire which shone on his wet and tattered garments.

John Spence was evidently astonished by the sudden appearance and blunt familiarity of a total stranger, whose miserable and woebegone condition was by no means prepossessing. Keeping his eye fixed on him, John slowly drew a crutch between his knees, as if anxious to be a.s.sured of present help.

"Wha the mis-chief are ye?" asked Spence in an angry voice.

"A freen', Mr. Spence--a freen'!" replied Jock, quietly. "But let me heat mysel' awee--for I hae travelled far through moss and mire, and sleepit last nicht in a roofless biggin, an' a' to see you--and syne I'll gie ye my cracks."

Spence, more puzzled than ever, only gave a growl, and said, slowly and firmly, "A freen' in need is nae doot a freen' indeed, and I suppose ye'll be the freen' in need, and ye tak' me for the freen' indeed, but maybe ye're mista'en!"

Hall remaining silent longer than was agreeable, Spence at last said impatiently, "Nane o' yer nonsense wi' me! I'll ca' in the keepers.

Ye're ane o' thae beggin' ne'er-do-weel tramps that we hae ower mony o'.

Gang to the door and cry lood for Hugh. He's up in the plantin'; the guidwife and bairns are doon at the Castle. Be quick, or be aff aboot yer business."

Jock very coolly replied, "My business is wi' you, an' I'm glad I hae gotten ye by yersel' an' naebody near. I'll _no_ ca' Hugh, an' I ken _ye_ canna do't. Sae I'll jist wait till he comes, an' tell ye my business in the meantime. Wi' your leave, Mr. Spence, I'll tak' a seat;" on which he drew a chair to the side of the fire opposite old John, who partly from fear and partly from a sense of his own weakness, and also from curiosity, said nothing, but watched Hall with a look of childish astonishment, his under lip hanging helplessly down, and his hand firmly grasping the crutch. His only remark was--"My certes, ye're a cool ane! I hae seen the day----" but what he had seen vanished in another growl, ended by a groan.

"Tak' a snuff, Mr. Spence," said Hall, as he rose and offered his tin box to the keeper. "Snuff is meat and music; it's better than a bite o'

bread when hungry, and maist as gude as a dram when cauld, and at a'

times it is pleasant tae sowl and body. Dinna spare't!"

There was not, as usual, much to spare of the luxury, but Spence refused it on the ground that he had never snuffed, and "didna like to get a habit o't".

"I think," said Jock, "ye might trust yersel' at fourscore for no' doing that."

The keeper made no reply, but kept his small grey eyes under his bushy eyebrows fixed on his strange visitor.

When Jock had resumed his seat, he said, "Ye'll ken weel, I'se warrant, Mr. Spence, a' the best shootin' grun' about Benturk? Ye'll nae doot ken the best bits for fillin' yer bag when the win' is east or wast, north or south? And ye'll ken the Lang Slap? and the Craigdarroch brae?

and the short cut by the peat moss, past the Big Stane, and doon by the whins to the Cairntupple muir? And ye'll ken----"

Old Spence could stand this no longer, and he interrupted Jock by exclaiming, "Confoond yer gab and yer impudence! dauring to sit afore me there as if ye were maister and I servant! What do ye mean?"

"I was but axin' a ceevil question, Mr. Spence; and I suppose ye'll no'

deny that ye ken thae places?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I WAS BUT AXIN' A CEEVIL QUESTION, MR. SPENCE" Page 117]

"An' what if I do? what if I do?" retorted the keeper.

"Jist this," said Jock, without a movement in the muscles of his countenance, "that I ken them tae for mony a year; and sae baith o' us hae common freens amang the hills."

"What do _ye_ ken aboot them?" asked Spence, not more pacified, nor less puzzled.

"Because," said Jock, "I hae shot ower them a' as a poacher--my name is Jock Hall, parish o' Drumsylie--and I hae had the best o' sport on them."

This was too much for the Senior Keeper. With an exclamation that need not be recorded, Spence made an attempt to rise with the help of his crutches, but was gently laid back in his chair by Jock, who said--

"Muckle ye'll mak' o't! as the auld wife said to the guse waumlin' in the glaur. Sit doon--sit doon, Mr. Spence; I'll be as guid to you as Hugh; an' I'll ca' in Hugh ony time ye like: sae be easy. For I wish atween oorsels to tell ye aboot an auld poacher and an auld acquaintance o' yours and mine, Sergeant Adam Mercer; for it's aboot him I've come."

This announcement induced John to resume his seat without further trouble, on which Jock said, "Noo, I'll ca' Hugh to ye, gin ye bid me, as ye seem feared for me;" and he motioned as if to go to the door.

"I'm no feared for you nor for mortal man!" replied Spence, a.s.serting his dignity in spite of his fears; "but, my fac! _ye_ might be feared, pittin' yer fit into a trap like this! and if Hugh grips ye!----" He left the rest to be inferred.