CHAPTER EIGHT.
IN THE OLD TOWER.
"Father said I was to make you quite at home, Max," said Kenneth, "solet's see old Donald before we go. You have been introduced to the cookby deputy. Come along."
"Who is old Donald--is he a chief?"
"Chief! no. I thought I told you. He's our piper."
"Oh!"
"This way."
Kenneth led his companion back to the great entrance of the ruinedcastle, through which gateway Scoodrach had gone in search of the rods.
Tah-tah-tah! cried the jackdaws, as the lads entered the open gloomyyard, and half a dozen began to fly here and there, while two or threeperched about, and peered inquiringly down first with one eye and thenwith the other.
Max looked up at the mouldering walls, with their crevices dotted withpatches of polypody and _ruta muraria_, velvety moss, and flauntinggolden sun ragwort, and wondered whether the place was ever attacked.
"Here's Scood," cried Kenneth, as the lad appeared through the fartherarch, bearing a couple of long rods over his shoulder as if they werelances for the defence. "Here, we're going up to see Donald. Is hethere?"
"Yes, she heard him as she went to the house."
"All right. You go on to Tavvy. Stop a moment. Go back and get aflask, and ask Grant to fill it with whisky. Tavvy will want a drop tochristen the first fish."
"She's got it," said Scoodrach, holding up a flask by its strap.
"Did he give you plenty?"
"She asked him, and Master Crant said he wouldn't give me a trop, andsent me away."
"But, I say--"
"Ta pottle's quite full," said Scood, grinning. "Master Crant sent heraway, so she went rount to the window, and got in, and filled it at thesideboard."
"I say, Scood, you mustn't do that!" cried Kenneth sharply.
"Why not? She titn't want the whusky, but the young master tit. Whoshall Master Crant be, she should like to know!"
"Well, never mind now, only don't do it again. It's like stealing,Scood."
"Like what?" cried the lad, firing up. "How could she steal the whuskywhen she ton't trink it hersel? She wanted her master's whusky for theyoung master. You talk creat nonsense."
"Ah, well, go on. We'll come directly."
Scoodrach went off scowling, and Kenneth scratched his head.
"He's a rum fellow, isn't he? Never mind; nobody saw him; only hemustn't do it again. Why, I believe if father saw him getting in at thewindow, he'd pepper him. Here, this way."
Kenneth entered another doorway, whose stones showed the holes where thegreat hinges and bolts had been, and began to ascend a spiral flight ofbroken stairs.
"Mind how you come. I'll give you a hand when it's dangerous."
"Dangerous!" said Max, shrinking.
"Well, I mean awkward; you couldn't fall very far."
"But why are we going up there?"
"Never mind; come on."
"But you are going to play me some trick."
"If you don't come directly, I will play you a trick. I wasn't goingto, but if you flinch, I'll shove you in one of the old dungeons, andsee how you like that."
"But--"
"Well, you are a coward! I didn't think Cockneys were such girls."
"I'm not a coward, and I'm coming," said Max quickly; "but I'm not usedto going up places like this."
"Oh, I am sorry!" cried Kenneth mockingly. "If I had known you werecoming, we'd have had the man from Glasgow to lay on a few barrels ofgas, and had a Brussels carpet laid down."
"Now, you are mocking at me," said Max quietly. "I could not helpfeeling nervous. Go on, please. I'll come."
"He is a rum chap," said Kenneth, laughing to himself, as he disappearedin the darkness.
"Do the steps go up straight?" said Max from below.
"No; round and round like a corkscrew. It won't be so dark higher up.There used to be a loophole here, but the stones fell together."
Max drew a deep breath, and began stumbling up the spiral stairs, whichhad mouldered away till some of them sloped, while others were deephollows; but he toiled on, with a half giddy, shrinking sensationincreasing as he rose.
"If you feel anything rush down by you," said Kenneth, in a hollowwhisper, "don't be afraid; it's only an old ghost. They swarm here."
"I don't believe it," said Max quietly.
"Well, will you believe this?--there are two steps gone, and there's abig hole just below me. Give me your hand, or you'll go through."
Max made no reply, but went cautiously on till he could feel that he hadreached the dangerous place, and stopped.
"Now then, give me your hand, and reach up with one leg quite high.That's the way."
Kenneth felt that the soft hand he took was cold and damp.
"Got your foot up? Ready?"
"Yes."
"There now, spring."
There was a bit of a scuffle, and Max stood beside his young host.
"That's the way. It's worse going down, but you'll soon get used to it.Why, Scood and I run up and down here."
Max made no answer, but cautiously followed his leader, growing more andmore nervous as he climbed, for his unaccustomed feet kept slipping, andin several places the stones were so worn and broken away that it reallywould have been perilous in broad daylight, while in the semi-obscurity,and at times darkness, there were spots that, had he seen them, the ladwould have declined to pass.
"Here we are," said Kenneth, in a whisper, as the light now shone downupon them. "Be quiet. I don't suppose he heard us come up."
Max obeyed, and followed his guide up a few more steps, to where theyturned suddenly to left as well as right--the latter leading to theruined battlements of the corner tower, the former into an old chamber,partly covered in by the groined roof, and lit by a couple of loopholesfrom the outside, and by a broken window opening on to the oldquadrangle.
The floor was of stone, and so broken away in places that it waspossible to gaze down to the basement of the tower, the lower floorsbeing gone; and here, busy at work, in the half roofless place, with thefurniture consisting of a short plank laid across a couple of stonesbeneath the window, and an old three-legged stool in the crumbling,arched hollow of what had been the fireplace, sat a wild-looking oldman. The top of his head was shiny and bald, but from all roundstreamed down his long thin silvery locks, and, as he raised his headfor a moment to pick up something from the floor, Max could see that hisface was half hidden by his long white beard, which flew out in silverystrands from time to time, as a puff of wind came from the unglazedwindow.
He too was in jacket and kilt, beneath which his long thin bare legsglistened with shaggy silver hairs, and, as Max gazed at the dull,sunken eyes, high cheek-bone, and eagle-beak nose of the wonderfullywrinkled face, he involuntarily shrank back, and felt disposed tohastily descend.
For a few moments he did not realise what the old man was doing, forthere was something shapeless in his lap, and what seemed to be three orfour joints of an old fishing-rod beneath his arm, while he busilysmoothed and passed a piece of fine string or twisted hemp through hishands, one of which Max saw directly held a piece of wax.
"Is he shoemaking?" thought Max; but directly after saw that the oldfellow was about to bind one of the joints of the fishing-rod.
Just then, as he raised his head, he seemed to catch sight of the twolads standing in the old doorway, and the eyes that were dull andfilmy-looking gradually began to glisten, and the face grow wild andfierce, but only to soften to a smile as he exclaimed, in a harsh,highly-pitched voice,--
"Ah, Kenneth, my son! Boy of my heart! Have you come, my young eagle,to see the old man?"
"Yes; I've brought our visitor, Mr Max Blande."
"Ah!" said the old man, half-rising and making a courtly bow; "she hurtthat the young Southron laird had come, and there's sorrow in her oldheart, for the pipes are not ready to give him welcome to the home ofour Chief."
"What, haven't you got
'em mended yet?"
"Not quite, Kenneth, laddie. I'm doing them well, and to-morrow theyshall sing the old songs once again."
"Hurrah!" cried Kenneth. "My friend here is fra the sooth, but he lo'esthe skirl o' the auld pipes like a son o' The Mackhai."
"Hey! Does he?" cried the old man, firing up. "Then let him lay hishan' in mine, and to-morrow, and the next day, and while he stays, heshall hear the old strains once again."
"That's right."
"Ay, laddie, for Donald has breath yet, auld as he is."
"Ah, you're pretty old, aren't you, Donald?"
"Old? Ay. She'll be nearly a hundert, sir," said the old man proudly."A hundert--a hundert years."
Max stared, and felt a curious sensation of shrinking from theweird-looking old man, which increased as he suddenly beckoned him toapproach with his thin, claw-like hand, after sinking back in his seat.
In spite of his shrinking, Max felt compelled to go closer to the oldfellow, who nodded and smiled and patted the baize-covered skin in hislap.
"Ta bag," he said confidentially, "she isn't a hundert years auld, butshe's auld, and she was proke, and ta wint whustled when she plew, butshe's chust mended, and to-morrow--ah, to-morrow!"
"Yes; we're going fishing," said Kenneth, who was enjoying Max'sshrinking way.
"Chust going to fush," said the old man, who was gazing searchingly atMax. "And she likes ta music and ta pipes? She shall hear them then."
"Yes, get them mended, Donald; we want to hear them again."
"P'raps she could chust make enough music the noo."
Kenneth laughed as he saw Max's horror, for the old man began hastily totwist up the wax end with which he had been binding one of the crackedpipes; but he laid his hand on his shoulder.
"No, no; not this morning. Get them all right, Donald."
"Yes; she was ketting them all right," he muttered, and he began withtrembling fingers to unfasten the waxed thread.
At a sign from his companion, Max hurriedly followed him to the doorway.
"We'll go up on the top another time," said Kenneth. "There's such aview, and you can walk nearly all round the tower, only you have to becareful, or over you go."
Max gave a horrified glance up the crumbling staircase, and thenfollowed Kenneth, who began to descend with all the ease of one longaccustomed to the dark place.
"Take care here!" he kept on saying, as they came to the awkward places,where Max felt as if he would give anything for a candle, but hemastered his timidity, and contrived to pass over the different gaps inthe stairs safely.
"How does that old man manage?" he asked, as he drew breath freely atthe bottom.
"Manage? Manage what?"
"Does he always stay there?"
"What! Old Donald? Why, he cuts up and down there as quickly as Ican."
"Then he is not always there?"
"Not he. Too fond of a good peat fire. He lives and sleeps at LongShon's. But come along."
He hurried Max out of the quadrangle and down toward the narrow neck ofrock which was uncovered by the falling tide, and then along by a sandypath, which passed two or three low whitewashed bothies, from whosechimneys rose a faint blue smoke, which emitted a pungent, peculiarodour.
Suddenly a thought occurred to Kenneth as they were passing one of thecottages, where a brown-faced, square-looking woman in a white mutch satpicking a chicken, the feathers floating here and there, and a number offowls pecking about coolly enough, and exhibiting not the slightestalarm at their late companion's fate.
"That's Mrs Long Shon, Max," whispered Kenneth hastily. "You go onalong this path; keep close to the water, and I'll catch up to youdirectly."
"You will not be long?" said Max, with a helpless look.
"Long! no. Catch you directly. Go on. I just want to speak to the oldwoman."
Max went on, keeping, as advised, close to the waters of the little bay,till he could go no farther, for a rapid burn came down from the hillsand emptied itself there into the sea.
"Hillo! ahoy!" came a voice from behind him, just as he was gazinghelplessly about, and wondering whether, if he attempted to ford theburn, there would be any dangerous quicksands.
Max turned, to see Kenneth coming trotting along with a basket in hishand.
"Off with your shoes and socks, Max," cried Kenneth.
He set the example, and was half across before Max was ready.
"Tuck up your trousers," continued Kenneth, laughing. "Why don't youdress like I do? No trousers to tuck!"
Max obeyed to the letter, and followed into the stream, flinching andmaking faces and balancing, as he held a shoe in each hand.
"Why, what's the matter?" cried Kenneth.
"It's--very--chilly," said Max, hurrying on as fast as he could, butmanaging so badly that he put one foot in a deep place, and to savehimself from falling the other followed, with the result that he cameout on the other side with the bottoms of his trousers dripping wet.
Three Boys; Or, The Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai Page 8