Part 57 (2/2)

Even with the aid of my field-gla.s.s I could not estimate the damage on more distant farms, for the rain, though now thin and soft, as it continued for six days, was still heavy and of a brown color. After breakfast--which was interrupted by my bantam c.o.c.k's twice spilling my milk--I saw Waster Lunny and his son, Matthew, running towards the shepherd's house with ropes in their hands. The house, I thought, must be in the midst beyond; and then I sickened, knowing all at once that it should be on this side of the mist. When I had nerve to look again, I saw that though the roof had fallen in, the shepherd was astride one of the walls, from which he was dragged presently through the water by the help of the ropes. I remember noticing that he returned to his house with the rope still about him, and concluded that he had gone back to save some of his furniture. I was wrong, however. There was too much to be done at the farm to allow this, but Waster Lunny had consented to Duncan's forcing his way back to the s.h.i.+eling to stop the clock. To both men it seemed horrible to let a clock go on ticking in a deserted house.

Having seen this rescue accomplished, I was letting my gla.s.s roam in the opposite direction, when one of its shakes brought into view something on my own side of the river. I looked at it long, and saw it move slightly. Was it a human being? No, it was a dog. No, it was a dog and something else. I hurried out to see more clearly, and after a first glance the gla.s.s shook so in my hands that I had to rest it on the dike. For a full minute, I daresay, did I look through the gla.s.s without blinking, and then I needed to look no more. That black patch was, indeed, Gavin.

He lay quite near the school-house, but I had to make a circuit of half a mile to reach him. It was pitiful to see the dog doing its best to come to me, and falling every few steps. The poor brute was discolored almost beyond recognition; and when at last it reached me, it lay down at my feet and licked them. I stepped over it and ran on recklessly to Gavin. At first I thought he was dead. If tears rolled down my cheeks, they were not for him.

I was no strong man even in those days, but I carried him to the school-house, the dog crawling after us. Gavin I put upon my bed, and I lay down beside him, holding him close to me, that some of the heat of my body might be taken in by his. When he was able to look at me, however, it was not with understanding, and in vain did my anxiety press him with questions. Only now and again would some word in my speech strike upon his brain and produce at least an echo. To ”Did you meet Lord Rintoul's dogcart?” he sat up, saying quickly:

”Listen, the dogcart!”

”Egyptian” was not that forenoon among the words he knew, and I did not think of mentioning ”hill.” At ”rain” he s.h.i.+vered; but ”Spittal”

was what told me most.

”He has taken her back,” he replied at once, from which I learned that Gavin now knew as much of Babbie as I did.

I made him as comfortable as possible, and despairing of learning anything from him in his present state, I let him sleep. Then I went out into the rain, very anxious, and dreading what he might have to tell me when he woke. I waded and jumped my way as near to the farm as I dared go, and Waster Lunny, seeing me, came to the water's edge. At this part the breadth of the flood was not forty yards, yet for a time our voices could no more cross its roar than one may send a s...o...b..ll through a stone wall. I know not whether the river then quieted for a s.p.a.ce, or if it was only that the ears grow used to dins as the eyes distinguish the objects in a room that is at first black to them; but after a little we were able to shout our remarks across, much as boys fling pebbles, many to fall into the water, but one occasionally to reach the other side. Waster Lunny would have talked of the flood, but I had not come here for that.

”How were you home so early from the prayer-meeting last night?” I bawled.

”No meeting ... I came straucht hame ... but terrible stories ... Mr.

Dishart,” was all I caught after Waster Lunny had flung his words across a dozen times.

I could not decide whether it would be wise to tell him that Gavin was in the school-house, and while I hesitated he continued to shout:

”Some woman ... the Session ... Lang Tammas ... G.o.d forbid ... maun back to the farm ... byre running like a mill-dam.”

He signed to me that he must be off, but my signals delayed him, and after much trouble he got my question, ”Any news about Lord Rintoul?”

My curiosity about the earl must have surprised him, but he answered:

”Marriage is to be the day ... cannon.”

I signed that I did not grasp his meaning.

”A cannon is to be fired as soon as they're man and wife,” he bellowed. ”We'll hear it.”

With that we parted. On my way home, I remember, I stepped on a brood of drowned partridge. I was only out half an hour, but I had to wring my clothes as if they were fresh from the tub.

The day wore on, and I did not disturb the sleeper. A dozen times, I suppose, I had to relight my fire of wet peats and roots; but I had plenty of time to stare out at the window, plenty of time to think.

Probably Gavin's life depended on his sleeping, but that was not what kept my hands off him. Knowing so little of what had happened in Thrums since I left it, I was forced to guess, and my conclusion was that the earl had gone off with his own, and that Gavin in a frenzy had followed them. My wisest course, I thought, was to let him sleep until I heard the cannon, when his struggle for a wife must end. Fifty times at least did I stand regarding him as he slept; and if I did not pity his plight sufficiently, you know the reason. What were Margaret's sufferings at this moment? Was she wringing her hands for her son lost in the flood, her son in disgrace with the congregation?

By one o'clock no cannon had sounded, and my suspense had become intolerable. I shook Gavin awake, and even as I shook him demanded a knowledge of all that had happened since we parted at Nanny's gate.

”How long ago is that?” he asked, with bewilderment.

”It was last night,” I answered. ”This morning I found you senseless on the hillside, and brought you here, to the Glen Quharity school-house. That dog was with you.”

He looked at the dog, but I kept my eyes on him, and I saw intelligence creep back, like a blush, into his face.

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