This was such an extravagant surmise that even the anxious landlord smiled. Then he said, drily:
“You're a braw laddie, Geordie, and gudehearted, but you're no' a doctor yet, and, with your leave, I'll have my ain medical man tak' a look at Bobby.”
“Ay, I would,” Geordie agreed, cordially. “It's worth four shullings to have your mind at ease, man. I'll just go up to the lodge and get a warm bath ready, to tak' the stiffness out of his muscles, and brew a tea from an herb that wee wild creatures know all about and aye hunt for when they're ailing.”
Geordie went away gaily, to take disorder and evil smells into Mistress Jeanie's shining kitchen.
No sooner had the medical student gone up to the lodge, and the children had been persuaded to go home to watch the proceedings anxiously from the amphitheater of the tenement windows, than the kirkyard gate was slammed back noisily by a man in a hurry. It was the sergeant who, in the splendor of full uniform, dropped in the wet grass beside Bobby.
“Lush! The sma' dog got hame, an' is still leevin'. Noo, God forgie me—”
“Eh, man, what had you to do with Bobby's misadventure?”
Mr. Traill fixed an accusing eye on the soldier, remembering suddenly his laughing threat to kidnap Bobby. The story came out in a flood of remorseful words, from Bobby's following of the troops so gaily into the Castle to his desperate escape over the precipice.
“Noo,” he said, humbly, “gin it wad be ony satisfaction to ye, I'll gang up to the Castle an' put on fatigue dress, no' to disgrace the unifarm o' her Maijesty, an' let ye tak' me oot on the Burghmuir an' gie me a gude lickin'.”
Mr. Traill shrugged his shoulders. “Naething would satisfy me, man, but to get behind you and kick you over the Firth into the Kingdom of Fife.”