But this interval of relief was not to last long. In every school, just as in every company of human beings, there is always to be found a bully; and this bully requires two persons near him,—a victim to be tormented by him, and a toady to laugh at his cleverness. Christopher Bain, nine years of age, was the bully; poor, harmless Willie was the victim; and Button Bowie, whose father was foreman to Bain's father, was the toady. Bain founded his superiority on the fact that his father was the largest farmer in the neighbourhood, and kept a gig. He was conceited, brazen-faced, and loud. Coming forward, he cried, "Weel, what's that little numskull, that dunce o' the hale schule, been sayin' noo? He's gettin' stupider than ever."
Button, eager to curry favour with the son of his father's employer, told him.
"Ye lee'in beggar," said Bain to Willie, as if in righteous indignation, "hoo daur ye tell sic stories? Why, ye're sae stupid that ye wadna ken a pigeon frae a hawk. Ye wadna ken a B from a bull's fit;" and, so saying, he gave the little fellow a push which sent him sprawling on the floor.
While some of the girls cried out "Shame," and Button Bowie sniggered, Bob Fortune exclaimed, "Stop that, ye big coward. Strike ane o' yer ain size. I tell the same story that Willie telt aboot what he saw this mornin'. Ca' me a leer! Try't!"
"Ay, I'll try't," retorted Bain in a blustering voice.
"Just try't," repeated Bob.
"Ay, I'll try't, and dae't tae."
But now an explosive snore proclaimed that the master was waking, and in an instant the scholars were intent on their slates and books, just as if they had never stopped their studies; and the teacher himself tried to look as if he had never been asleep, but had only shut his eyes to think out some deep problem. A fine bit of acting on both sides!
After the scholars were dismissed, Bob and Willie went to do some errands at the village shops, and then they took their way homewards. When they came to the foot of the avenue, whom should they see but Bain and Bowie looking up at the chaffinch's nest? "Oh, ho!" cried Bain, "so, this is yer precious nest;" and before they had any idea of what was going to happen, the wretch had shot a stone with unerring aim, and the ruins of the nest and the young birds, gasping out their little lives, were lying on the hard ground. Willie burst into tears; but Bob, rushing at the heartless rascal, thrashed him soundly, and ended by throwing him down in a bed of nettles. Bain, starting up, ran to a distance, and then threw a big stone which, had not Bob smartly ducked, might have done serious damage. Bob, crying out, "Twa can play at that game," sent after him a missile which hit him on the small of the back, and he went howling round the corner, followed by his sympathising spaniel, Button Bowie. Bob and Willie sorrowfully gathered up the murdered birds, and buried them in a tuft of moss, while the parents, fluttering round, filled the air with their distressful notes.
The next day, Thursday, was the annual fast, which, in this primitive village of Sandyriggs, was most rigidly observed. As the preparation for the solemn rites of the communion, it was considered even more sacred than the Sabbath itself. Any secular work or any amusement on such a day was considered to be an act of desecration. There is a story still handed down, that a stranger, who was passing through the village on a Fast Day, and who chanced to whistle, was stoned by the natives, and obliged to run for his life. I myself distinctly remember my horror when I saw two boys on such an occasion playing at marbles. I trembled lest lightning should fall from heaven, and strike them dead. But of late, there were some bold spirits who regarded this day as a mere human institution, and, therefore, not binding upon them. Bob Fortune's father was one of these. On principle, neither he nor his children went to church on a Fast Day. And thus it happened that Bob had told Willie that he was going on the morrow to see his big brother fish in the loch.