Part 7 (2/2)
If anyone comes this way I'll be breaking the mile record between here and Creetown!”
The poacher laughed.
”Ay, maybe,” he said. ”But if it's old Adam Broom comes ye'll hae to be runnin' faster than the charge o' shot he'll be peppering your troosers wi' in the seat!”
”Eh, Harry,” said Mac, ”it's G.o.d's blessings ye did no put on yer kilt the nicht!”
He seemed to think there was something funny in the situation, but I did not, I'm telling ye.
And suddenly a grim, black figure loomed up nearby.
”We're pinched, for sure, Mac,” I said.
”Eh, and if we are we are,” he said, philosophically. ”What's the fine for poaching, Harry?”
We stood clutching one anither, and waitin' for the gun to speak. But the poacher whispered.
”It's all richt,” he said. ”It's a farmer, and a gude friend o' mine.”
So it proved. The farmer came up and greeted us, and said he'd been having a stroll through the heather before he went to bed. I gied him a cigar--the last I had, too, but I was too relieved to care for that.
We walked along wi' him, and bade him gude nicht at the end of the road that led to his steading. But the poacher was not grateful, for he sent the dogs into one of the farmer's corn fields as soon as he was oot of our sicht.
”There's hares in there,” he said, ”and they're sure to come oot this gate. You watch and nail the hares as they show.”
He went in after the dogs, and Mac got a couple of stones while I made ready to kick any animal that appeared. Soon two hares appeared, rustling through the corn. I kicked out. I missed them, but I caught Mac on the s.h.i.+ns, and at the same moment he missed with his stones but hit me instead! We both fell doon, and thocht no mair of keeping still we were too sair hurt not to cry oot a bit and use some strong language as well, I'm fearing. We'd forgotten, d'ye ken, that it was the Sawbath eve!
Aweel, I staggered to my feet. Then oot came more hares and rabbits, and after them the twa dogs in full chase. One hit me as I was getting up and sent me rolling into the ditch full of stagnant water.
Oh, aye, it was a pleasant evening in its ending! Mac was as scared as I by that time, and when he'd helped me from the ditch we looked aroond for our poacher host. We were afraid to start hame alane. He showed presently, laughing at us for two puir loons, and awfu' well pleased with his nicht's work.
I canna say sae muckle for the twa loons! We were sorry looking wretches. An' we were awfu' remorsefu', too, when we minded the way we'd broken the Sawbath and a'--for a' we'd not known what was afoot when we set out.
But it was different in the morn! Oh, aye--as it sae often is! We woke wi' the sun streamin' in our window. Mac leaned on his hand and sniffed, and looked at me.
”Man, Harry,” said he, ”d'ye smell what I smell?”
And I sniffed too. Some pleasant odor came stealing up the stairs frae the kitchen. I leaped up.
”'Tis hare, Mac!” I cried. ”Up wi' ye! Wad ye be late for the breakfast that came nigh to getting us shot?”
CHAPTER VIII
Could go on and on wi' tales of yon good days wi' Mac. We'd our times when we were no sae friendly, but they never lasted overnicht. There was much philosophy in Mac. He was a kindly man, for a' his quick temper; I never knew a kinder. And he taught me much that's been usefu' to me. He taught me to look for the gude in a' I saw and came in contact wi'. There's a bricht side to almost a' we meet, I've come to ken.
It was a strange thing, the way Mac drew comic things to himsel'. It seemed on our Galloway tour, in particular, that a' the funny, sidesplitting happenings saved themselves up till he was aboot to help to mak' them merrier. I was the comedian; he was the serious artist, the great violinist. But ye'd never ha' thocht our work was divided sae had ye been wi' us.
It was to me that fell one o' the few heart-rending episodes o' the whole tour. Again it's the story of a man who thocht the world owed him a living, and that his mission was but to collect it. Why it is that men like that never see that it' not the world that pays them, but puir individuals whom they leave worse off for knowing them, and trusting them, and seeking to help them?
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