Freaks on the Fells: Three Months' Rustication Part 21

inquired the constable, as they ran.

"I said I would have him nabbed," replied the boy.

"Hoot! mon; that was na wise-like. But after a' ye're ony a bairn.

Here, Tam, ye'd better gang up by the Stank burn an' keep a look-oot ower the hills, an' I'll start him."

Thus advised, the second constable diverged to the right, and, plunging into the copsewood, was instantly out of sight.

Soon afterwards, Willie came to the place where he had met the gypsy.

Here a consultation was held as to where the booth might probably be.

"He jumped over the wall here," said Willie, "and I'm sure he took the hill in this direction at _first_."

"Ay, laddie; but chiels o' his stamp never gang straight to their mark.

We'll follow him up _this_ way. Hoe long is't sin' ye perted wi' him, said ee?" examining the place where the gypsy had entered the copse.

Willie returned no answer. The unusual amount of fatigue and the terrible mental excitement which he had undergone that day were too much for him. A feeling of deadly sickness came suddenly on him, and when the constable looked round he was lying on the road in a swoon.

This unexpected incident compelled the man to abandon further pursuit for the time. Giving utterance to a "puir laddie," he raised the boy in his arms and carried him to the nearest hut, which happened to be that of old Moggy! No one was there but the young woman who acted as nurse to the invalid. It chanced that Moggy had had a sleep, and she awoke with her mental faculties much cleared, when the constable entered and laid Willie on a mat not far from her bed.

The old woman gazed long and earnestly in the boy's face, and seemed much troubled and perplexed while the nurse applied water to his temples. At last Willie opened his eyes. Moggy at once recognised him.

She strove eagerly to reach her long-lost child, and Willie, jumping up, sprang to her side; but ere they met she raised both arms in the air, and, uttering a long piercing cry, fell back insensible upon the bed.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 21.

THE END.

Rain, rain, rain; continual, pertinacious, unmitigated rain! The White House was no longer white, it was grey. Things were no longer damp, they were totally flooded. Mr McAllister's princ.i.p.al hay-field was a pond--every ditch was a rivulet; "the burn" was a destructive cataract; the white torrents that raged down the mountains everywhere, far and near, looked like veins of quartz, and the river had become a lake with a strong current in the middle of it. There was no suns.h.i.+ne now in the Highlands,--not a gleam!

Nevertheless there was suns.h.i.+ne in the hearts of some who sojourned there. Mr Sudberry had found out that he could fish just as well in wet weather as in dry, and that the fish were more eager to be caught.

That was suns.h.i.+ne enough for him! Lucy found a new and engrossing amus.e.m.e.nt, of a semi-scientific kind, in laying down and pressing her botanical specimens, and writing Latin names under the same, being advised thereto and superintended by Hector Macdonald. That was suns.h.i.+ne enough for her, and for him too apparently, for he came every day to help her, (and she declared she could not get on without help), and it was quite wonderful to observe how very slowly the laying-down progressed, although both of the semi-philosophers were intensely interested in their work. Flora was so sunny by nature that she lightened up the place around her wherever she went; she was thus in some measure independent of the sun. George was heard to say more than once that her face was as good as a sunbeam any day! Mrs Sudberry, poor woman, was so rampantly triumphant in the total discomfiture of her husband touching the weather, that she resigned herself to Highland miseries in a species of happy contentment, and thus lived in what may be likened to a species of mild moons.h.i.+ne of her own. Tilly, poor, delicate, un.o.btrusive Tilly, was at all times satisfied to bask in the moonlight of her mother's countenance. As for Jacky--that arch-imp discovered that wet weather usually brought his victims within doors, and therefore kept them constantly within reach of his dreadful influence. He was supremely happy--"darling child." Fred finished up his sketches--need we say that that was suns.h.i.+ne to him? The servants too shared in the general felicity. Indeed, they may, in a sense, be said to have been happier than those they served, for, having been transported to that region to _work_, they found the little bits of fun and amus.e.m.e.nt that fell to their lot all the more pleasant and enjoyable, that they were unexpected, and formed a piquant contrast to the monotonous routine of daily duty.

But the brightest blaze of internal suns.h.i.+ne--the most effulgent and dazzling beams of light were shed forth in the lowly hut of Jacky's particular friend. Old Moggy did _not_ die after all! To the total discomfiture of the parish doctor, and to the reflected discredit of the medical profession generally, that obstinate old creature got well in spite of the emphatic a.s.surances of her medical adviser that recovery was impossible. The doctor happened to be a misanthrope. He was not aware that in the _Materia Medica_ of Nature's laboratory there is a substance called "joy," which sometimes effects a cure when all else fails--or, if he did know of this medicine, he probably regarded it as a quack nostrum.

At all events this substance cured old Moggy, as Willie said, "in less than no time." She took such deep draughts of it, that she quite surprised her old friends. So did Willie himself. In fact, these two absolutely took to tippling together on this medicine. More than that, Jacky joined them, and seemed to imbibe a good deal--chiefly through his eyes, which were always very wide open and watchful when he was in the old hut. He drank to them only with his eyes and ears, and could not be induced to enter into conversation much farther than to the extent of yes and no. Not that he was shy--by _no_ means! The truth was that Jacky was being opened up--mentally. The new medicine was exercising an unconscious but powerful influence on his sagacious spirit. In addition to that he was fascinated by Willie--for the matter of that, so was old Moggy--for did not that small sailor-boy sing, and laugh, and talk to them for hours about sights and scenes of foreign travel, of which neither of them had dreamed before? Of course he did, and caused both of them to stare with eyes and mouths quite motionless for half-hours at a time, and then roused them up with a joke that made Jacky laugh till he cried, and made Moggy, who was always crying more or less, laugh till she couldn't cry! Yes, there was very brilliant suns.h.i.+ne in the hut during that dismal season of rain--there was the suns.h.i.+ne of human love and sympathy, and Flora was the means of introducing and mingling with it suns.h.i.+ne of a still brighter and a holier nature, which, while it intensified the other, rendered it also permanent.

At last the end of the Sudberrys' rustication arrived; the last day of their sojourn dawned. It happened to be bright and beautiful--so bright and lovely that it made one feel as if there never had been a bad day since the world began, and never would be another bad one to the end of time. It was the fourth fine day of the six dreary weeks--the third, which occurred some days before, was only half-and-half; and therefore unworthy of special notice. Nevertheless, the Sudberrys felt sad. They were _going away_! The mental suns.h.i.+ne of the rainy season was beclouded, and the physical suns.h.i.+ne was of no avail to dispel such clouds.

"My dear," said Mr Sudberry at breakfast that morning, in a very sad tone, "have you any further use for me?"

"My dear, no," replied his partner, sorrowfully.

From the nature of these remarks and the tone in which they were uttered, an ignorant spectator might have imagined that Mr Sudberry, having suspected his wife of growing indifference, and having had his worst fears confirmed from her own lips, meant to go quietly away to the river and drown him in a deep pool with a strong eddy, so that he might run no chance of being prematurely washed upon a shallow. But the good man merely referred to "the packing," in connection with which he had been his wife's right hand during the last three or four days.

"Well, then, my love, as the heavy baggage has gone on before, and we are ready to start with the coach, which does not pa.s.s until the afternoon, I will go and take a last cast in the river."

Mrs Sudberry made no objection; so Mr Sudberry, accompanied by George and Fred, went down to the "dear old river," as they styled it, for the last time.

Now it must be known, that, some weeks previous to this time, Hobbs had been allowed by his master to go out for a day's trout-fis.h.i.+ng, and Hobbs, failing to raise a single fin, put on a salmon fly in reckless desperation.

He happened, by the merest chance, to cast over a deep pool in which salmon were, (and still are), wont to lie. To his amazement, a "_whale_," as he styled it, instantly rose, sent its silvery body half out of the water, and fell over with a tremendous splash, but missed the fly. Hobbs was instantly affected with temporary insanity. He cast in violent haste over the same spot, as if he hoped to hook the fish by the tail before it should get to the bottom. Again! again! and over again, but without result. Then, dancing on the bank with excitement, he changed the fly; tried every fly in the book; the insanity increasing, tried two flies at once, back to back; put on a bunch of trout-flies in addition; wound several worms round all; failed in every attempt to cast with care; and finished off by breaking the top of the rod, entangling the line round his legs, and fixing the hooks in his coat-tails; after which he rushed wildly up to the White House, to tell what he had seen and show what he had done!

From that day forward Mr Sudberry always commenced his day's sport at the "Salmon Pool."

As usual, on this his last day, he went down to the salmon pool, but he had so often fished there in vain, that hope was well-nigh extinguished.

In addition to this, his spirits were depressed, so he gave the rod to Fred.

Fred was not naturally a fisher, and he only agreed to take the rod because he saw that his father was indifferent about it.

"Fred, my boy, cast a little farther over, just below yon curl in the water near the willow bush--ah! that's about the place. Hobbs declares that he raised a salmon there; but I can't say I've ever seen one myself; though I have fished here every other morning for many weeks."

Mr Sudberry had not quite finished speaking when Fred's rod was bent into the form of a large hoop.

"Hallo! here, father, take it--I don't know what to do."

What a blaze of excitement beamed on the father's countenance!

"Hurrah! hold on, Fred,--no, no, _no_! ease off--he'll break all away."

The caution was just in time. Fred was holding on like a true Briton.

He suddenly let the rod down and allowed the line to run out, which it did like lightning.

"What now, father? Oh! _do_ take it--I shall certainly lose the fish."

"No, no, boy; it is _your_ fish; try to play it out." No one but the good man himself knew what a tremendous effort of self-denial Mr Sudberry made on this occasion. But Fred felt certain that the fish would get off. He also knew that his father would give fifty pounds down on the spot to land a salmon: so he said firmly, "Father, if you don't take the rod, I'll throw it down!"

This settled the question. Father took the rod under protest, and, having had considerable experience in trout-fis.h.i.+ng, began to play the salmon with really creditable skill, considering the difficulty of the operation, and the fact that it was his first "big fish."

What varied expression flitted across the countenance of the enthusiastic sportsman on this great occasion! He totally forgot himself and his sons; he forgot even that this was his last day in the Highlands. It is an open question whether he did not forget altogether that he was _in_ the Highlands, so absorbed, so intensely concentrated, was his mind on that salmon. George and Fred also became so excited that they lost all command of themselves, and kept leaping about, cheering, giving useless advice in eager tones, tripping over stones and uneven places on the banks, and following their father closely, as the fish led him up and down the river for full two hours. They, too, forgot themselves; they did not know what extraordinary faces they went on making during the greater part of the time!

Mr Sudberry began the battle by winding up the line, the salmon having begun to push slowly up stream after its first wild burst. In a moment it made a dart towards the opposite bank, so sudden and swift that the rod was pulled straight, and the line ran out with a whiz of the most violent description. Almost simultaneously with the whiz the salmon leaped its entire length out of the water, gave a tremendous fling in the air, and came down with a heavy splas.h.!.+

Fred gasped; George cheered, and Mr Sudberry uttered a roar of astonishment, mingled with alarm, for the line was slack, and he thought the fish had broken off. It was still on, however, as a wild dash down stream, followed by a spurt up and across, with another fling into the air, proved beyond a doubt. The fish was very wild--fortunately it was well hooked, and the tackle was strong. What with excitement and the violent action that ensued at each rush, Mr Sudberry was so dreadfully blown in the first minutes, that he trembled from head to foot, and could scarce wind up the line. For one moment the thought occurred that he was too old to become a salmon-fisher, and that he would not be able to fight the battle out. He was quite mistaken. Every minute after this he seemed to gain fresh strength. The salmon happily took it into his head to cease its antics for half a minute, just when the fisher was at his worst. That half-minute of breathing-s.p.a.ce was all that was wanted.

"Geo'ge--hah!--cut--wata!"

George could not make out what his agitated parent wanted.

"Water! water!--chokin'!" reiterated his father.

"Oh, all right!" George scooped up a quant.i.ty of water in a leathern cup, and ran with it to his choking sire, who, holding the rod tight with both hands, turned his head aside and stretched over his left arm, still, however, keeping his eyes fixed on the line.

"Here, up with't lips."

The lips were projected, and George raised the cup to them, but the salmon moved at the moment, and the draught was postponed. The fish came to another pause soon after.

"Now, Geo'ge, try 'gain."