Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood Part 20

"I'm good at a pig, Turkey," I said. "Will a pig do?"

"Yes, well enough."

"But what if she should know me, and catch me, Turkey?"

"She will start away from you to my side; I shall rush out like a mad dog, and then she'll run for it."

We waited a long time--a very long time, it seemed to me. It was well it was summer. We talked a little across, and that helped to beguile the weary time; but at last I said in a whisper:

"Let's go home, Turkey, and lock the doors, and keep her out."

"You go home then, Ra.n.a.ld, and I'll wait. I don't mind if it be till to-morrow morning. It is not enough to be sure ourselves; we must be able to make other people sure."

"I'll wait as long as you do, Turkey; only I'm very sleepy, and she might come out when I was asleep."

"Oh, I shall keep you awake!" replied Turkey; and we settled down again for a while.

At the long last the latch of the door was lifted. I was just falling asleep, but the sound brought me wide awake at once. I peeped from behind my shelter. It was the Kelpie, with an empty bag--a pillow-case, I believe--in her hand. Behind her came Wandering Willie, but did not follow her from the door. The moment was favourable, for the moon was under a thick cloud. Just as she reached the stone, I rushed out on hands and knees, grunting and squeaking like a very wild pig indeed. As Turkey had foretold, she darted aside, and I retreated behind my stone. The same instant Turkey rushed at her with such canine fury, that the imitation startled even me, who had expected it. You would have thought the animal was ready to tear a whole army to pieces, with such a complication of fierce growls and barks and squeals did he dart on the unfortunate culprit. She took to her heels at once, not daring to make for the cottage, because the enemy was behind her. But I had hardly ensconced myself behind the stone, repressing my laughter with all my might, when I was seized from behind by Wandering Willie, who had no fear either of pig or dog. He began pommelling me.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Turkey! Turkey!" I cried.

The cry stopped his barking pursuit of the Kelpie. He rose to his feet and rushed to my aid. But when he saw the state of affairs, he turned at once for the cottage, crying:

"Now for a kick at the bagpipes!"

Wandering Willie was not too much a fool to remember and understand.

He left me instantly, and made for the cottage. Turkey drew back and let him enter, then closed the door, and held it.

"Get away a bit, Ra.n.a.ld. I can run faster than Willie. You'll be out of sight in a few yards."

But instead of coming after us, Wandering Willie began playing a most triumphant tune upon his darling bagpipes. How the poor old woman enjoyed it, I do not know. Perhaps she liked it. For us, we set off to outstrip the Kelpie. It did not matter to Turkey, but she might lock me out again. I was almost in bed before I heard her come in. She went straight to her own room.

CHAPTER XXIX

A Double Exposure

Whether the Kelpie had recognized us I could not tell, but not much of the next morning pa.s.sed before my doubt was over. When she had set our porridge on the table, she stood up, and, with her fists in her sides, addressed my father:

"I'm very sorry, sir, to have to make complaints. It's a thing I don't like, and I'm not given to. I'm sure I try to do my duty by Master Ra.n.a.ld as well as everyone else in this house."

I felt a little confused, for I now saw clearly enough that my father could not approve of our proceedings. I whispered to Allister--

"Run and fetch Turkey. Tell him to come directly."

Allister always did whatever I asked him. He set off at once. The Kelpie looked suspicious as he left the room, but she had no pretext for interference. I allowed her to tell her tale without interruption.

After relating exactly how we had served her the night before, when she had gone on a visit of mercy, as she represented it, she accused me of all my former tricks--that of the cat having, I presume, enlightened her as to the others; and ended by saying that if she were not protected against me and Turkey, she must leave the place.

"Let her go, father," I said. "None of us like her."

"I like her," whimpered little Davie.

"Silence, sir!" said my father, very sternly. "Are these things true?"

"Yes, father," I answered. "But please hear what _I_'ve got to say.

She's only told you _her_ side of it."

"You have confessed to the truth of what she alleges," said my father. "I did think," he went on, more in sorrow than in anger, though a good deal in both, "that you had turned from your bad ways. To think of my taking you with me to the death-bed of a holy man, and then finding you so soon after playing such tricks!--more like the mischievousness of a monkey than of a human being!"

"I don't say it was right, father; and I'm very sorry if I have offended you."

"You _have_ offended me, and very deeply. You have been unkind and indeed cruel to a good woman who has done her best for you for many years!"

I was not too much abashed to take notice that the Kelpie bridled at this.

"I can't say I'm sorry for what I've done to her," I said.

"Really, Ra.n.a.ld, you are impertinent. I would send you out of the room at once, but you must beg Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l's pardon first, and after that there will be something more to say, I fear."

"But, father, you have not heard my story yet."

"Well--go on. It is fair, I suppose, to hear both sides. But nothing can justify such conduct."

I began with trembling voice. I had gone over in my mind the night before all I would say, knowing it better to tell the tale from the beginning circ.u.mstantially. Before I had ended, Turkey made his appearance, ushered in by Allister. Both were out of breath with running.

My father stopped me, and ordered Turkey away until I should have finished. I ventured to look up at the Kelpie once or twice. She had grown white, and grew whiter. When Turkey left the room, she would have gone too. But my father told her she must stay and hear me to the end. Several times she broke out, accusing me of telling a pack of wicked lies, but my father told her she should have an opportunity of defending herself, and she must not interrupt me. When I had done, he called Turkey, and made him tell the story. I need hardly say that, although he questioned us closely, he found no discrepancy between our accounts. He turned at last to Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l, who, but for her rage, would have been in an abject condition.

"Now, Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l!" he said.

She had nothing to reply beyond a.s.serting that Turkey and I had always hated and persecuted her, and had now told a pack of lies which we had agreed upon, to ruin her, a poor lone woman, with no friends to take her part.

"I do not think it likely they could be so wicked," said my father.

"So I'm to be the only wicked person in the world! Very well, sir! I will leave the house this very day."

"No, no, Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l; that won't do. One party or the other _is_ very wicked--that is clear; and it is of the greatest consequence to me to find out which. If you go, I shall know it is you, and have you taken up and tried for stealing. Meantime I shall go the round of the parish. I do not think all the poor people will have combined to lie against you."

"They all hate me," said the Kelpie.

"And why?" asked my father.

She made no answer.

"I must get at the truth of it," said my father. "You can go now."