Part 2 (1/2)

”That shows how much you know, young Harry Lauder!” he said, scornfully. ”Would a pistol bullet hurt a ghost? Talk of what ye ha'

some knowledge of----”

”Aye,” I said. ”That's good advice, Jock. I suppose I'm not knowing so much as you do about ghosts. But tell me, man--would a ghost be making a noise like this?”

And I made the self-same noise I'd made before, when I was playing the ghost for Jock's benefit. He turned purple; he was clever enough to see the joke I'd played on him at once. And the other miners--they were all in the secret began to roar with laughter. They weren't sorry to see puir Jock shown up for the liar and boaster he was. But I was a little sorry, when I saw how hard he took it, and how angry he was.

He aimed a blow at me that would have made me the sorry one if it had landed fair, but I put up my jukes and warded it off, and he was ashamed, after than, wi' the others laughing at him so, to try again to punish me. He was very sensitive, and he never came back to the Eddlewood Colliery; the very next day he found a job in another pit.

He was a good miner, was Jock, so that was no matter to him. But I've often wondered if I really taught him a lesson, or if he always kept on telling his twisters in his new place!

I stayed on, though, after Jock had gone, and after a time I drove a pony instead of tending a gate. That was better work, and meant a few s.h.i.+llings a week more in wages, too, which counted heavily just then.

I handled a number of bonnie wee Shetland ponies in the three years I drove the hutches to and from the pitshaft. One likable little fellow was a real pet. He followed me all about. It was great to see him play one trick I taught him. He would trot to the little cabin and forage among all the pockets till he found one where a man had left a bit of bread and cheese at piece time. He'd eat that, and then he would go after a flask of cold tea. He'd fasten it between his forefeet and pull the cork with his teeth--and then he'd tip the flask up between his teeth and drink his tea like a Christian. Aye, Captain was a droll, clever yin. And once, when I beat him for stopping short before a drift, he was saving my life. There was a crash just after I hit him, and the whole drift caved in. Captain knew it before I did. If he had gone on, as I wanted him to do, we would both ha' been killed.

CHAPTER IV

After I'd been in the mine a few years my brother Matt got old enough to help me to support the family, and so, one by one, did my still younger brothers. Things were a wee bit easier for me then; I could keep a bit o' the siller I earned, and I could think about singing once in a while. There were concerts, at times, when a contest was put on to draw the crowd, and whenever I competed at one of these I usually won a prize. Sometimes it would be a cheap medal; it usually was. I shall never forget how proud I was the night a manager handed me real money for the first time. It was only a five s.h.i.+lling piece, but it meant as much to me as five pounds.

That same nicht one of the other singers gave me a bit of advice.

”Gae to Glasga, Harry,” he said. ”There's the Harmonic Compet.i.tion.

Ye're dead certain to win a prize.”

I took his advice, and entered, and I was one of those to win a medal.

That was the first time I had ever sung before total strangers. I'd always had folk I knew well, friends of mine, for my audience before, and it was a nerve racking experience. I dressed in character, and the song I sang was an old one I doubt yell ha' heard-”Tooralladdie” it was called. Here's a verse that will show you what a silly song it was:

”Twig auld Tooralladdie, Don't he look immense? His watch and chain are no his ain His claes cost eighteenpence; Wi' cuffs and collar shabby, 0' mashers he's the daddy; Hats off, stand aside and let Past Tooralladdie!”

My success at Glasgow made a great impression among the miners.

Everyone shook hands with me and congratulated me, and I think my head was turned a bit. But I'd been thinking for some time of doing a rash thing. I was newly married then, d'ye ken, and I was thinkin' it was time I made something of myself for the sake of her who'd risked her life wi' me. So that night I went home to her wi' a stern face.

”Nance!” I said. ”I'm going to chuck the mine and go in for the stage.

My mind's made up.”

Now, Nance liked my singin' well enough, and she thought, as I did, that I could do better than some we'd heard on the stage. But I think what she thought chiefly was that if my mind was made 'up to try it she'd not stand in my way. I wish more wives were like her, bless her!

Then there'd be fewer men moaning of their lost chances to win fame and fortune. Many a time my wife's saved me from a mistake, but she's never stood in the way when I felt it was safe to risk something, and she's never laughed at me, and said, ”I told ye so, Harry,” when things ha' gone wrong--even when her advice was against what I was minded to try.

We talked it all over that nicht--'twas late, I'm tellin' ye, before we quit and crept into bed, and even then we talked on a bit, in the dark.

”Ye maun please yersel', Harry,” Nance said. ”We've thought of every thing, and it can do no harm to try. If things don't go well, ye can always go back to the pit and mak' a living.”

That was so, ye ken. I had my trade to fall back upon. So I read all the advertis.e.m.e.nts, and at last I saw one put in by the manager of a concert party that was about to mak' a Scottish tour. He wanted a comic, and, after we'd exchanged two or three letters we had an interview. I sang some songs for him, and he engaged me, at thirty- five s.h.i.+llings a week--about eight dollars, in American money--a little more.

That seemed like a great sum to me in those days. It was no so bad.

Money went farther then, and in Scotland especially, than it does the noo! And for me it was a fortune. I'd been doing well, in the mine, if I earned fifteen in a week. And this was for doing what I would rather do than anything in the wide, wide world! No wonder I went back to Hamilton and hugged my wife till she thought I'd gone crazy.

I had been engaged as a comic singer, but I had to do much more than sing on that tour, which was to last fourteen weeks--it started, I mind, at Beith, in Ayrs.h.i.+re. First, when we arrived in a town, I had to see that all the trunks and bags were taken from the station to the hall. Then I would set out with a pile of leaflets, describing the entertainment, and distribute them where it seemed to me they would do the most good in drawing a crowd. That was my morning's work.