The Gold Of Fairnilee Part 3

When Jean woke, it was as dark as it ever is on a midsummer night in Scotland.

It was a soft, cloudy night; not a clear night with a silver sky.

Jeanie heard a loud roaring close to her, and the red light of a great fire was in her sleepy eyes.

In the firelight she saw strange black beasts, with horns, plunging and leaping and bellowing, and dark figures rus.h.i.+ng about the flames. It was the beasts that made the roaring. They were bounding about close to the fire, and sometimes in it, and were all mixed in the smoke.

Jeanie was dreadfully frightened, too frightened to scream.

Presently she heard the voices of men shouting on the hill below her.

The shouts and the barking of dogs came nearer and nearer.

Then a dog ran up to her, and licked her face, and jumped about her.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Page 267]

It was her own sheepdog, _Yarrow_.

He ran back to the men who were following him, and came again with one of them.

It was old Simon Grieve, very tired, and so much out of breath that he could scarcely speak.

Jean was very glad to see him, and not frightened any longer.

"Oh, Jeanie, my doo'," said Simon, "where hae ye been? A muckle gliff ye hae gien us, and a weary spiel up the weary braes."

Jean told him all about it: how she had come with Randal to see the Wis.h.i.+ng Well, and how she had lost him, and fallen asleep.

"And sic a nicht for you bairns to wander on the hill," said Simon.

"It's the nicht o' St. John, when the guid folk hae power. And there's a' the lads burning the Bel fires, and driving the nowt* through them: nae less will serve them. Sic a nicht!"

* Nowt, cattle.

This was the cause of the fire Jean saw, and of the noise of the cattle.

On midsummer's night the country people used to light these fires, and drive the cattle through them. It was an old, old custom come down from heathen times.

Now the other men from Fairnilee had gathered round Jean. Lady Ker had sent them out to look for Randal and her on the hills. They had heard from the good wife at Peel that the children had gone up the burn, and _Yarrow_ had tracked them till Jean was found.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Chapter Seven]

CHAPTER VII.--_Where is Randal?_

JEAN was found, but where was Randal? She told the men who had come out to look for her, that Randal had gone on to look for the Wis.h.i.+ng Well.

So they rolled her up in a big shepherd's plaid, and two of them carried Jean home in the plaid, while all the rest, with lighted torches in their hands, went to look for Randal through the wood.

Jean was so tired that she fell asleep again in her plaid before they reached Fairnilee. She was wakened by the men shouting as they drew near the house, to show that they were coming home. Lady Ker was waiting at the gate, and the old nurse ran down the gra.s.sy path to meet them.

"Where's my bairn?" she cried as soon as she was within call.

The men said, "Here 's Mistress Jean, and Randal will be here soon; they have gone to look for him."

"Where are they looking?" cried nurse.

"Just about the Wis.h.i.+ng Well."

The nurse gave a scream, and hobbled back to Lady Ker.

"Ma bairn's tint!"* she cried, "ma bairn's tint! They 'll find him never. The good folk have stolen him away from that weary Wis.h.i.+ng Well!"

* Tint, lost.

"Hush, nurse," said Lady Ker, "do not frighten Jean."

She spoke to the men, who had no doubt that Randal would soon be found and brought home.

So Jean was put to bed, where she forgot all her troubles; and Lady Ker waited, waited, all night, till the grey light began to come in, about two in the morning.

Lady Ker kept very still and quiet, telling her beads, and praying. But the old nurse would never be still, but was always wandering out, down to the river's edge, listening for the shouts of the shepherds coming home. Then she would come back again, and moan and wring her hands, crying for "her bairn."

About six o'clock, when it was broad daylight and all the birds were singing, the men returned from the hill.

But Randal did not come with them.

Then the old nurse set up a great cry, as the country people do over the bed of someone who has just died.

Lady Ker sent her away, and called Simon Grieve to her own room.

"You have not found the boy yet?" she said, very stately and pale.

"He must have wandered over into Yarrow; perhaps he has gone as far as Newark, and pa.s.sed the night at the castle, or with the shepherd at Fouls.h.i.+els."

"No, my Lady," said Simon Grieve, "some o' the men went over to Newark, and some to Fouls.h.i.+els, and other some down to Sir John Murray's at Philiphaugh; but there's never a word o' Randal in a' the country-side."

"Did you find no trace of him?" said Lady Ker, sitting down suddenly in the great armchair.

"We went first through the wood, my Lady, by the path to the Wis.h.i.+ng Well. And he had been there, for the whip he carried in his hand was lying on the gra.s.s. And we found _this_."

He put his hand in his pouch, and brought out a little silver crucifix, that Randal used always to wear round his neck on a chain.

"This was lying on the gra.s.s beside the Wis.h.i.+ng Well, my Lady--"

Then he stopped, for Lady Ker had swooned away. She was worn out with watching and with anxiety about Randal.

Simon went and called the maids, and they brought water and wine, and soon Lady Ker came back to herself, with the little silver crucifix in her hand.

The old nurse was crying, and making a great noise.