Part 14 (1/2)
”His master is in his grave in auld Greyfriars kirkyard, and the dog has aye slept there on the mound.”
The magistrate leaned over his desk. ”Man, no dog could sleep in the open for one winter in this climate. Are you fond of romancing, Mr.
Traill?”
”No' so overfond, your Honor. The dog is of the subarctic breed of Skye terriers, the kind with a thick under-jacket of fleece, and a weather thatch that turns rain like a crofter's cottage roof.”
”There should be witnesses to such an extraordinary story. The dog could not have lived in this strictly guarded churchyard without the consent of those in authority.” The magistrate was plainly annoyed and skeptical, and Mr. Traill felt the sting of it.
”Ay, the caretaker has been his gude friend, but Mr. Brown is ill of rheumatism, and can no' come out. Nae doubt, if necessary, his deposeetion could be tak'n. Permission for the bit dog to live in the kirkyard was given by the meenister of Greyfriars auld kirk, but Doctor Lee is in failing health and has gone to the south of France. The tenement children and the Heriot laddies have aye made a pet of Bobby, but they would no' be competent witnesses.”
”You should have counsel. There are some legal difficulties here.”
”I'm no' needing a lawyer. The law in sic a matter can no' be so complicated, and I have a tongue in my ain head that has aye served me, your Honor.” The magistrate smiled, and the spectators moved to the nearer benches to enjoy this racy man. The room began to fill by that kind of telepathy that causes crowds to gather around the human drama.
One man stood, unnoticed, in the doorway. Mr. Traill went on, quietly: ”If the court permits me to do so, I shall be glad to pay for Bobby's license, but I'm thinking that carries responsibeelity for the bit dog.”
”You are quite right, Mr. Traill. You would have to a.s.sume responsibility. Masterless dogs have become a serious nuisance in the city.”
”I could no' tak' responsibeelity. The dog is no' with me more than a couple of hours out of the twenty-four. I understand that most of his time is spent in the kirkyard, in weel-behaving, usefu' ways, but I could no' be sure.”
”But why have you fed him for so many years? Was his master a friend?”
”Nae, just a customer, your Honor; a simple auld shepherd who ate his market-day dinner in my place. He aye had the bit dog with him, and I was the last man to see the auld body before he went awa' to his meeserable death in a Cowgate wynd. Bobby came to me, near starved, to be fed, two days after his master's burial. I was tak'n by the wee Highlander's leal spirit.”
And that was all the landlord would say. He had no mind to wear his heart upon his sleeve for this idle crowd to gape at.
After a moment the magistrate spoke warmly: ”It appears, then, that the payment of the license could not be accepted from you. Your humanity is commendable, Mr. Traill, but technically you are in fault. The minimum fine should be imposed and remitted.”
At this utterly unlooked-for conclusion Mr. Traill seemed to gather his lean shoulders together for a spring, and his gray eyes narrowed to blades.
”With due respect to your Honor, I must tak' an appeal against sic a deceesion, to the Lord Provost and a' the magistrates, and then to the Court of Sessions.”
”You would get scant attention, Mr. Traill. The higher judiciary have more important business than reviewing dog cases. You would be laughed out of court.”
The dry tone stung him to instant retort. ”And in gude company I'd be. Fifty years syne Lord Erskine was laughed down in Parliament for proposing to give legal protection to dumb animals. But we're getting a bit more ceevilized.”
”Tut, tut, Mr. Traill, you are making far too much of a small matter.”
”It's no' a sma' matter to be entered in the records of the Burgh court as a petty law-breaker. And if I continued to feed the dog I would be in contempt of court.”
The magistrate was beginning to feel badgered. ”The fine carries the interdiction with it, Mr. Traill, if you are asking for information.”
”It was no' for information, but just to mak' plain my ain line of conduct. I'm no' intending to abandon the dog. I am commended here for my humanity, but the bit dog I must let starve for a technicality.”
Instantly, as the magistrate half rose from the bench, the landlord saw that he had gone too far, and put the court on the defensive. In an easy, conversational tone, as if unaware of the point he had scored, he asked if he might address his accuser on a personal matter. ”We knew each other weel as laddies. Davie, when you're in my neeborhood again on a wet day, come in and dry yoursel' by my fire and tak' another cup o'
kindness for auld lang syne. You'll be all the better man for a lesson in morals the bit dog can give you: no' to bite the hand that feeds you.”
The policeman turned purple. A ripple of merriment ran through the room.
The magistrate put his hand up to his mouth, and the clerk began to drop pens. Before silence was restored a messenger laddie ran up with a note for the bench. The magistrate read it with a look of relief, and nodded to the man who had been listening from the doorway, but who disappeared at once.