Part 15 (1/2)
There was something so pitiful, yet half amusing, in the way in which this was said, that Jackman suddenly grasped the old gentleman's hand.
”Mr MacRummle,” he said firmly, ”will you do me a favour?”
”Certainly, with pleasure--if I can.”
”You can--and you shall. It is this: change places and rifles with me.”
”My dear, kind sir, you don't know what you ask. My rifle is an old double-barrel muzzle loader, and at the white rock you wouldn't have the ghost of a chance. I know the place well, having often pa.s.sed it in fis.h.i.+ng excursions up the burns. Besides, I never used a repeating rifle in my life. I couldn't manage it, even if I were to try.”
”Mr MacRummle, are you not a Highlander?”
”I believe I am!” replied the old man, drawing himself up with a smile.
”And is not that equivalent to saying that you are a man of your word?”
”Well--I suppose it is so--at least it should be so.”
”But you will prove that it is not so, if you fail to do me a favour that lies in your power, after promising to do it. Come now, we have no time to lose. I will show you how to use the repeater. See; it is empty just now. All you have to do is to take aim as you would with any ordinary rifle, and pull the trigger. When the shot is off, you load again by simply doing _this_ to the trigger-guard--so. D'you understand?”
”Yes, perfectly; but is that all? no putting in of cartridges anywhere?”
”No, nothing more. Simply do _that_ (open--and the cartridge flies out), and _that_ (shut--and you are loaded and ready to fire)! Now, try it. That's it! Capital! Couldn't be better. Why, you were born to be a sportsman!”
”Yes, with fish,” remarked the gratified old man, as he went through the motions of loading and firing to perfection.
”Now, then, I will load it thus. Watch me.”
As he spoke, he filled the chamber under the barrel with cartridge after cartridge to the amazement of MacRummle and the amus.e.m.e.nt of Quin, who looked on.
”How many shots will it fire without reloading?” asked the old man at length.
”Sixteen,” replied Jackman.
”What! sixteen? But--but how will I ever know how many I've let off?”
”You don't require to know. Just blaze away till it refuses to fire!
Now, I must be off. Where is this white rock that I have to go to?”
”There it is--look. A good bit down the hill, on the open ground near the forest. If you have good eyes, you can see it from here. Look, just behind the ridge. D'you see?”
”I see. Great luck to you. Do good work, and teach that rascal Ivor to respect your powers with the rifle. Come along, Quin.”
”But really, my young friend, it is too good, too self-denying of you to--”
He stopped, for Jackman and Quin were already striding down the mountain on their way to the white rock.
MacRummle had been somewhat excited by the enthusiasm of his young friend and the novelty of his situation. To say truth, he would much rather have been pottering along the banks of one of his loved Highland streams, rod in hand, than crouching in the best pa.s.s of the Eagle Cliff in expectation of red-deer; but being an amiable and sympathetic man, he had been fired by the enthusiasm of the household that morning, and, seeing that all were going to the drive, including the laird, he made up his mind to brace himself up to the effort, and float with the current.
His enthusiasm had not cooled when he reached the Eagle Cliff, and Jackman's kindness, coupled with hope and the repeating rifle, increased it even to white heat. In which condition he sat down on a rock, removed his hat, and wiped his bald, perspiring head, while a benignant smile illuminated his glowing features.