CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
MACRIMMON'S LAMENT.
"No, sir, I've asked everybody, and no one has seen them since Bridgetput them to dry. She says they were in front of the fire when she wentto bed."
This was Grant's reply to Max's earnest prayer that he would try andfind his trousers.
"Do you think they could have been stolen?" said Max doubtingly.
"Stolen! My goodness, sir! do you think there is any one about thishouse who would steal young gentlemen's trousers?"
"Oh no, of course not," said Max; "but could you get a man to pick alock?"
"Pick a pocket, sir!" cried Grant indignantly, for he had not fullycaught Max's question.
"No, no--a lock. I lost the key of my small portmanteau as I came here,and I can't get at my clothes."
"No, sir, there is no one nearer than Stirling that we could get to dothat."
"Oh, never mind, Max," cried Kenneth, coming in after leaving hisvisitor for some little time in the drawing-room; "the trousers'll turnup soon, and if they don't, you'll do as you are. He looks fizzing,don't he, Granty?"
"Yes, sir, that he do," replied the butler, compressing his lips into athin line.
"Only his legs look just a little too white," continued Kenneth.
"You are both laughing at me," said Max sadly.
"No, no, nonsense! There, come on out."
"Like this?"
"Of course. It's no worse for you than it is for me. Come along."
Max felt as if he could not help himself, and, yielding to the pressure,he followed his young host out on to the terrace-like rock, where theywere joined by Scoodrach, who came up with his eyes so wide open thatthey showed the whites all round.
As the red-headed lad came up, he essayed to speak, but only made anexplosive sound.
"Look here, Scood, if you laugh, Max Blande will pitch you overboard.Now then, what is it?"
"Tonald--"
"Well, what about Donald?"
"She's chust waitin' for the young chentleman."
"Where?"
"In ta castle yaird."
"What does he want?" said Kenneth seriously. "Here, Max, let's go andsee."
Max was not sorry to follow his young host into the shelter of thecastle ruins, for there was a good deal of breeze off the sea; and, assoon as the three lads were in the shady quadrangle, old Donald Dhu cameout of the ruined entry at the corner tower he affected.
As soon as the old man was well outside, he stood shading his dim eyeswith one bony hand, bending forward and gazing at Max, looking him upand down in a way which was most embarrassing to the visitor, but whichmade the boys' eyes sparkle with delight.
Max felt ready to run back to his room and lock himself in, but, to hisrelief, the old man did not burst into a fit of laughing, for a gravesmile overspread his venerable face.
"She wass a prave poy," he said, laying a claw-like hand upon Max'sshoulder, "and she shall wear ta kilt petter some day."
Then, motioning to him mysteriously with his free hand, he beckoned himslowly toward the entry to the spiral staircase, and Max yielded, thoughhe longed to escape.
"What does he want, Kenneth?"
"Got something to say to you, I suppose. Don't be long, and we'll havethe boat ready for a sail."
"But--"
"I say, don't stop talking; it may make the old boy wild, and if youdo--"
Kenneth did not finish his sentence, but made a peculiar cluck with histongue--a sound which might have meant anything.
All this time the old man stood, with his flowing white locks and beard,motioning to Max to come; and unwillingly enough he entered the oldtower, and climbed cautiously up, avoiding the broken places, andfinally reaching the chamber in the top.
"She shall sit town there," said the old man, pointing to a stool set inthe ruinous fireplace; and, without the slightest idea of what was goingto happen, Max seated himself and waited to hear what the piper had tosay.
He was not kept long in suspense, for the old man said, with abenevolent look on his ancient face,--
"She lo'es ta pipes, and she shall hear them the noo, for they're mentitup, and tere's nae music like them in ta wide world."
As he spoke, he raised the lid of a worm-eaten old chest, and, smilingthe while, took out the instrument, placed the green baize-covered bagunder one arm, arranged the long pipes over his shoulder, and, inflatinghis cheeks, seemed to mount guard over the doorway, making Max acomplete prisoner, and sending a thrill of misery through him, as, afterproducing a few sounds, the old man took the mouthpiece from his lips,and said, with a smile,--
"`Macrimmon's Lament.'"
Max felt as if he should like to stick his fingers in his ears, but hedared not,--as if he should like to rush down the stairs, but he couldnot. For the old man fixed him with his eyes, and, keeping his headturned towards his prisoner, began to march up and down the broken stonefloor, and blew so wild a dirge that in a few moments it became almostmaddening.
For Max Blande's nerves, from the retired London life he had led, weresensitive to a degree. He had never had them strung up by open-airsports or life among the hills, but had passed his time in study,reading almost incessantly; though even to the ears of an athlete, if hewere shut up in a small chamber with a piper, the strains evoked fromthis extremely penetrating instrument might jar.
As Donald marched up and down in a pace that was half trot, half dance,his eyes brightened and sparkled; his yellow cheeks flushed as they werepuffed out; and, as he went to and fro before the window, the sea-breezemade his long hair and beard stream out behind, giving him a wild, weirdaspect that was almost startling, as it helped to impress Max with afeeling of awe which fixed him to his chair. For if he dared to rise hefelt that he would be offering a deadly affront to the old minstrel, onewhich, hot-blooded Highlander as he was, he might resent with his dirk,or perhaps do him a mischief in a more simple manner, by spurning himwith his foot as he retreated--in other words, kick him down-stairs.
And those were such stairs!
Northern people praise the bagpipes, and your genuine Highlander wouldsooner die than own it was not the "pravest" music ever made. He willtell you that to hear it to perfection you must have it on the mountainside, or away upon some glorious Scottish loch. This is the truth, forundoubtedly the bagpipes are then at their best, and the farther offupon the mountain, or the wider the loch, the better.
But Max was hearing the music in a bare-walled, echoing chamber, and,but for the fact that there was hardly any roof, there is no saying whatmight have been the consequences. For Donald blew till his cheeks wereas tightly distended as the bag, while chanter and drone burred andbuzzed, and screamed and wailed, as if twin pigs were being ornamentedwith nose-rings, and their affectionate mamma was all the time bemoaningthe sufferings of her offspring, "Macrimmon's Lament" might have beenthe old piper's lamentation given forth in sorrow because obliged tomake so terribly ear-shrilling a noise.
But, like most things, it came to an end, and with a sigh of relief Maxsprang up to exclaim, as if he had been in a London drawing-room, andsome one had just obliged,--
"Oh, thank you!"
"She's a gran' chune," said Donald, pressing forward, and as it werebacking poor Max into the seat from which he had sprung. "Noo she'llgie ye `Ta Mairch o' ta Mackhais.'"
Max suppressed a groan, as the old man drew himself up and produced halfa dozen sonorous burring groans from the drone.
Then there was a pause, and Donald dropped the mouthpiece from his lips.
"She forgot to say tat she composed ta mairch in honour of the Chiefhersel'."
Then he blew up the bag again, and there came forth a tremendous wail,wild and piercing, and making a curious shudder run up and down Max'sbackbone, while directly after, as he was debating within himselfwhether he might not make some excuse about Kenneth waiting, so as toget away, the old man marched up and down, playing as proudly as if hewere at the head of a clan of fighting men.
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p; All at once, sounding like an echo, there came from somewhere below apiteous yell, long-drawn and wild, and doleful as the strains of thepipes.
The effect was magical. The old man ceased playing, his face grewdistorted, and he stamped furiously upon the floor.
"It's tat Sneeshing," he cried, laying down the pipes and making asnatch at his dirk, but only to thrust it back, dart at a great stonewhich had fallen in from the side of the window, and, seizing it, whirlit up and dash it out of the broken opening down into the court wherethe dog was howling.
There was a crash, a snapping, wailing howl, and then all was silent.
"She hopes she has killed ta tog," cried the old man, as he gathered uphis pipes again, and once more began to march up and down and blow.
The fierce burst of tempestuous rage and the accompanying actions werenot without their effect upon Max, who shrank back now helpless andaghast, staring at the old piper, whose face grew smoother again, as hegave his visitor an encouraging smile and played away with all hismight.
Would it never end--that weary, weary march--that long musical journey?It was in a minor key, and anything more depressing it was impossible toconceive. Like the pieces played by WS Gilbert's piper, there wasnothing in it resembling an air, but Donald played on and on right tothe bitter end, when once more Max began to breathe, and again hesaid,--
"Thank you."
"She hasn't tone yet," said Donald, smiling. "She does not often ket ayoung chentleman like yersel' who lo'es ta coot music, and she'll keepon playing to ye all tay. Ye shall noo hae something lively."
Before Max could speak, the old man blew away, and wailed and burred outwhat was probably intended for "Maggie Lauder;" but this was changedinto "Tullochgorum," and back again, with frills, and puckers, and bows,and streamers, formed of other airs, used to decorate what was evidentlymeant for a grand _melange_ to display the capabilities of the nationalinstrument.
Just when this wonderful stream of maddening notes was at its highestpitch, and Max Blande was at his lowest, and feeling as if he would liketo throw himself down upon the floor and cry, he became aware of thefact that Kenneth and Scoodrach were up above, gazing down at him fromthe ruined wall on the side where the chamber was roofless.
Old Donald was right below them and could not see, even had he been lessintent and out of his musical dreaming, instead of tramping up and down,evidently supremely happy at the diversity of noises he made.
Max seized the opportunity of Donald's back being turned, and made asign to them to come down; but they only laughed, keeping their headsjust in sight, Scoodrach's disappearing and bobbing about from time totime, as he grinned and threw up his fingers, and seemed to be goingthrough the motions of one dancing a reel.
Max would have shouted to them to come down, but at the thought of doingso a feeling of nervous trepidation came over him. Donald had lookedhalf wild when the dog interrupted him; how would he behave if he wereinterrupted again, just as he was in this rapt state, and playing awaywith all his might?
The lad subsided in his seat, and with wrinkled brow gazed from thepiper to the heads of the two boys, both of whom were laughing, andevidently enjoying his misery.
And now for the first time it struck Max that he had been inveigled upthere through the planning of Kenneth, who knew his dislike to thepipes, and had told Donald that he was anxious to hear him play.
His face must have been expressive, for Kenneth was laughing at him, andwhispered something to Scoodrach, who covered his mouth with his hands,and seemed to roar to such an extent that he was obliged to bend down.
As Scoodrach reappeared, he climbed up so as to lie flat on the top ofthe wall, leaning his head down when Donald came toward him, and raisingit again as the old man turned.
The medley of Scottish airs ceased, and at last Max thought his penancewas at an end, but in an instant the old man began again blowing hard,and playing a few solemn notes before approaching quite close to Max,taking his lips from the mouthpiece and whispering sharply,--
"Ta Dirge o' Dunloch."
Then whang! wha! on went the depressing strain Sneeshing being heard tohowl in the distance.
Max felt as if he must run, and in his despondency and horror, knowingas he did that if he did not do something the old half-crazy piper wouldkeep him shut up there and play to him all day, he waited till Donaldhad approached close to him, and, as the old man turned, he stretchedout a leg ready. Then, waiting till he had been across the room, comeback, and was turning again, Max cautiously slipped off his seat, andwas about to dash for the door, when there was a shout, a scuffle, athud, an awful pipe yell, and Donald came staggering back, uttering aseries of wild Gaelic ejaculations in his surprise.
The cause of the interruption was plain enough: Scood had rolled off thetop of the wall feet first, clung with his hands, and in his efforts torecover himself and get back he had kicked out one leg so sharply thatit had come in contact with the bag of the pipes, producing the wildyell, and sending the old man staggering back.
As soon as he fully realised what was the matter, the old man uttered ahowl of rage, laid down his pipes, and rushed across at Scoodrach, whohad half scrambled back.
Donald's attack altered his position, for the old man seized him aboutthe hips by the kilt, and dragged at him to get him down, just asKenneth was holding him tightly and trying to pull him up, Scoodseconding his efforts by clinging to him with all his strength.
What followed did not take many moments, for Donald had every advantageon his side. He hauled, and Kenneth hauled, while Scood clung to hiscompanion with tremendous tenacity.
"Pull! pull!" shouted Scoodrach to Kenneth; but the latter could notpull for laughing. And besides, he had the whole of the young gillie'sweight to bear, while his foothold was exceedingly insecure.
The old piper uttered some fierce words in Gaelic, to which Scoodrachreplied in the same tongue; and then, finding how helpless he was, andlittle likely to be drawn up while Donald was clinging to him, he drewin his legs and then kicked them out again, like one swimming, or, abetter comparison, like a grasshopper in the act of taking a leap.
Scoodrach was as strong as one of the rough ponies of the place, whileold Donald's days for display of muscular strength had long gone by.Consequently he was drawn to and fro as Scoodrach kicked, and wasfinally thrown off, to go down backwards into a sitting position.
"Now pull, Maister Ken," shouted Scoodrach. "Heave her up, or she'llhae that mad blawblether at her again."
Kenneth pulled, laughing more than ever, as Scoodrach held on by hisjacket; and just then the gillie managed to get a foot in a hole whencea stone had been dislodged. Raising himself up a little, Kenneth nowbegan to pull in earnest; but it was too late. Old Donald had struggledup and seized Scoodrach once more, giving so heavy a drag upon him thatdown came the young gillie, and not alone, for he dragged Kenneth withhim; and all three lay together in a struggling heap upon the floor.
"Rin, Maister Ken! Rin, young chentleman! Doon wi' ye! She'll be likea daft quey the noo. I can haud her till ye get doon."
"No, no, Scood, I won't run!" cried Kenneth. "You run, Max. Get downwith you."
Max obeyed, glad of the opportunity for escape; but as soon as he hadpassed through the door he turned, and looked in at the struggle goingon.
To his horror, they more than once drew so near to the hole in the floorthat it seemed as if they must go through; but they all wrenchedthemselves clear, and Scoodrach suddenly got free, leaped up, and drewhis dirk.
"Oh!" cried Max in horror.
"Put away that knife, Scood, and run!" cried Kenneth.
"She'll niver rin frae ta auld piper!" cried Scoodrach; and, turning tothe box on which lay the pipes, he caught them up, and held them withthe point of his keen knife close to the skin bag.
"Noo," he shouted, "haud off an' let the young maister go, or I'll slitthe bag's weam."
"Ah!" shouted old Donald.
"Ay, but I will!" yelled Scoodrach, with
the point of his keen knifedenting in the bag.
"Ah!" shouted the old piper again; and he made a movement toward theboy.
But Scoodrach was too quick. He stepped back, raised his arm, andseemed about to plunge the knife through the green baize.
"She'll preak her heart," groaned the old piper.
"Shall she let her go, then?" cried Scoodrach.
The old man caught hold of his hair by handfuls and gave it a tremendoustug.
"Don't cut, Scood," cried Kenneth.
"Go on down, and she shall come aifter. She'll slit ta bahg oop ifTonald ton't sit town."
The old man's breast heaved, and he gazed piteously at his instrument;following Scoodrach slowly, as that young gentleman edged round by theside of the wall till he reached the door, through which Kenneth hadpassed, and where he was now standing holding on by Max, both beingintensely interested spectators of the scene.
"Rip her recht up," cried Scoodrach. "Noo, Maister Kenneth, are yeready?"
"Yes."
"Down wi' ye, then. He canna catch us there. Noo, Tonald, catch."
He threw the pipes at the old man, and then darted through the narrowopening, and followed the others down the spiral stairs at such a ratethat an accident seemed certain; but they reached the bottom in safety,and stood at last in the courtyard, laughing and cheering.
"Tonal'!" shouted Scoodrach; and he added something in Gaelic.
The effect was to bring the old piper's head and shoulders out of thenarrow broken window opening, where he stood, hugging the pipes in onehand, and shaking the other menacingly.
Then, changing his manner, he began to beckon with his great claw-likehand.
"Nivver mind him, laddie. Come up here and I'll play ye Macrimmon owreagain."
"No, no!" exclaimed Max earnestly.
"Says he's afraid you'd blow the roof off, Tonal'," shouted Kenneth."No time. He's coming along with us;" and he led Max, to his very greatdelight, out through the old arch on to the broad terrace by the sea.But they had not gone many yards before they heard old Donald againpiping away, with no other audience but the jackdaws, which came andsettled near, and looked at him sideways, too much used to the wildstrains to be alarmed, and knowing from experience that the old piperwould pay no heed to them.
Three Boys; Or, The Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai Page 14