Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood - George MacDonald (latest novels to read .txt) 📗

to follow him at my best speed. There was some marshy ground between us and the knoll, but we floundered through it; and then Turkey, who was some distance ahead of me, dropped into a walk, and began to reconnoitre the knoll with some caution. I soon got up with him.

"He's there, Ranald!" he said.

"Who? Davie?"

"I don't know about Davie; but Willie's there."

"How do you know?"

"I heard his bagpipes grunt. Perhaps Davie sat down upon them."

"Oh, run, Turkey!" I said, eagerly.

"No hurry," he returned. "If Willie has him, he won't hurt him, but it mayn't be easy to get him away. We must creep up and see what can be done."

Half dead as some of the trees were, there was foliage enough upon them to hide Willie, and Turkey hoped it would help to hide our approach. He went down on his hands and knees, and thus crept towards the knoll, skirting it partly, because a little way round it was steeper. I followed his example, and found I was his match at crawling in four-footed fashion. When we reached the steep side, we lay still and listened.

"He's there!" I cried in a whisper.

"Sh!" said Turkey; "I hear him. It's all right. We'll soon have a hold of him."

A weary whimper as of a child worn out with hopeless crying had reached our ears. Turkey immediately began to climb the side of the knoll.

"Stay where you are, Ranald," he said. "I can go up quieter than you."

I obeyed. Cautious as a deer-stalker, he ascended, still on his hands and knees. I strained my eyes after his every motion. But when he was near the top he lay perfectly quiet, and continued so till I could bear it no longer, and crept up after him. When I came behind him, he looked round angrily, and made a most emphatic contortion of his face; after which I dared not climb to a level with him, but lay trembling with expectation. The next moment I heard him call in a low whisper:

"Davie! Davie! wee Davie!"

But there was no reply. He called a little louder, evidently trying to reach by degrees just the pitch that would pierce to Davie's ears and not arrive at Wandering Willie's, who I rightly presumed was farther off. His tones grew louder and louder-but had not yet risen above a sharp whisper, when at length a small trembling voice cried "Turkey! Turkey!" in prolonged accents of mingled hope and pain. There was a sound in the bushes above me-a louder sound and a rush. Turkey sprang to his feet and vanished. I followed. Before I reached the top, there came a despairing cry from Davie, and a shout and a gabble from Willie. Then followed a louder shout and a louder gabble, mixed with a scream from the bagpipes, and an exulting laugh from Turkey. All this passed in the moment I spent in getting to the top, the last step of which was difficult. There was Davie alone in the thicket, Turkey scudding down the opposite slope with the bagpipes under his arm, and Wandering Willie pursuing him in a foaming fury. I caught Davie in my arms from where he lay sobbing and crying "Yanal! Yanal!" and stood for a moment not knowing what to do, but resolved to fight with teeth and nails before Willie should take him again. Meantime Turkey led Willie towards the deepest of the boggy ground, in which both were very soon floundering, only Turkey, being the lighter, had the advantage. When I saw that, I resolved to make for home. I got Davie on my back, and slid down the farther side to skirt the bog, for I knew I should stick in it with Davie's weight added to my own. I had not gone far, however, before a howl from Willie made me aware that he had caught sight of us; and looking round, I saw him turn from Turkey and come after us. Presently, however, he hesitated, then stopped, and began looking this way and that from the one to the other of his treasures, both in evil hands. Doubtless his indecision would have been very ludicrous to anyone who had not such a stake in the turn of the scale. As it was, he made up his mind far too soon, for he chose to follow Davie. I ran my best in the very strength of despair for some distance, but, seeing very soon that I had no chance, I set Davie down, telling him to keep behind me, and prepared, like the Knight of the Red Cross, "sad battle to darrayne". Willie came on in fury, his rags fluttering like ten scarecrows, and he waving his arms in the air, with wild gestures and grimaces and cries and curses. He was more terrible than the bull, and Turkey was behind him. I was just, like a negro, preparing to run my head into the pit of his stomach, and so upset him if I could, when I saw Turkey running towards us at full speed, blowing into the bagpipes as he ran. How he found breath for both I cannot understand. At length, he put the bag under his arm, and forth issued such a combination of screeching and grunting and howling, that Wandering Willie, in the full career of his rage, turned at the cries of his companion. Then came Turkey's masterpiece. He dashed the bagpipes on the ground, and commenced kicking them before him like a football, and the pipes cried out at every kick. If Turkey's first object had been their utter demolition, he could not have treated them more unmercifully. It was no time for gentle measures: my life hung in the balance. But this was more than Willie could bear. He turned from us, and once again pursued his pipes. When he had nearly overtaken him, Turkey gave them a last masterly kick, which sent them flying through the air, caught them as they fell, and again sought the bog, while I, hoisting Davie on my back, hurried, with more haste than speed, towards the manse.

[Illustration]

What took place after I left them, I have only from Turkey's report, for I never looked behind me till I reached the little green before the house, where, setting Davie down, I threw myself on the grass. I remember nothing more till I came to myself in bed.

When Turkey reached the bog, and had got Wandering Willie well into the middle of it, he threw the bagpipes as far beyond him as he could, and then made his way out. Willie followed the pipes, took them, held them up between him and the sky as if appealing to heaven against the cruelty, then sat down in the middle of the bog upon a solitary hump, and cried like a child. Turkey stood and watched him, at first with feelings of triumph, which by slow degrees cooled down until at length they passed over into compassion, and he grew heartily sorry for the poor fellow, although there was no room for repentance. After Willie had cried for a while, he took the instrument as if it had been the mangled corpse of his son, and proceeded to examine it. Turkey declared his certainty that none of the pipes were broken; but when at length Willie put the mouthpiece to his lips, and began to blow into the bag, alas! it would hold no wind. He flung it from him in anger and cried again. Turkey left him crying in the middle of the bog. He said it was a pitiful sight.

It was long before Willie appeared in that part of the country again; but, about six months after, some neighbours who had been to a fair twenty miles off, told my father that they had seen him looking much as usual, and playing his pipes with more energy than ever. This was a great relief to my father, who could not bear the idea of the poor fellow's loneliness without his pipes, and had wanted very much to get them repaired for him. But ever after my father showed a great regard for Turkey. I heard him say once that, if he had had the chance, Turkey would have made a great general. That he should be judged capable of so much, was not surprising to me; yet he became in consequence a still greater being in my eyes.

When I set Davie down, and fell myself on the grass, there was nobody near. Everyone was engaged in a new search for Davie. My father had rode off at once without dismounting, to inquire at the neighbouring toll-gate whether Willie had passed through. It was not very likely, for such wanderers seldom take to the hard high road; but he could think of nothing else, and it was better to do something. Having failed there, he had returned and ridden along the country road which passed the farm towards the hills, leaving Willie and Davie far behind him. It was twilight before he returned. How long, therefore, I lay upon the grass, I do not know. When I came to myself, I found a sharp pain in my side. Turn how I would, there it was, and I could draw but a very short breath for it. I was in my father's bed, and there was no one in the room. I lay for some time in increasing pain; but in a little while my father came in, and then I felt that all was as it should be. Seeing me awake, he approached with an anxious face.

"Is Davie all right, father?" I asked.

"He is quite well, Ranald, my boy. How do you feel yourself now?"

"I've been asleep, father?"

"Yes; we found you on the grass, with Davie pulling at you and trying to wake you, crying, 'Yanal won't peak to me. Yanal! Yanal!' I am afraid you had a terrible run with him. Turkey, as you call him, told me all about it. He's a fine lad Turkey!"

"Indeed he is, father!" I cried with a gasp which betrayed my suffering.

"What is the matter, my boy?" he asked.

"Lift me up a little, please," I said, "I have such a pain in my side!"

"Ah!" he said, "it catches your breath. We must send for the old doctor."

The old doctor was a sort of demigod in the place. Everybody believed and trusted in him; and nobody could die in peace without him any more than without my father. I was delighted at the thought of being his patient. I think I see him now standing with his back to the fire, and taking his lancet from his pocket, while preparations were being made for bleeding me at the arm, which was a far commoner operation then than it is now.

That night I was delirious, and haunted with bagpipes. Wandering Willie was nowhere, but the atmosphere was full of bagpipes. It was an unremitting storm of bagpipes-silent, but assailing me bodily from all quarters-now small as motes in the sun, and hailing upon me; now large as feather-beds, and ready to bang us about, only they never touched us; now huge as Mount Ætna, and threatening to smother us beneath their ponderous bulk; for all the time I was toiling on with little Davie on my back. Next day I was a little better, but very weak, and it was many days before I was able to get out of bed. My father soon found that it would not do to let Mrs. Mitchell attend upon me, for