No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did not flinch. His duty was that of every driver—to stick to the last by his horses—and he did it to the uttermost.
He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and then he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for polite society, and his temper was not always under perfect control.
Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of a cart-horse worth about £50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without hesitation and without fear.
XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION
NEXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of Thomgreen like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that the people were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to this sacred office than about the man whom they sent to represent them in Parliament. The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who was fit to be an elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would have cheerfully elected to any board, and in whose hands they would have trusted any amount of money, but whom they would never have dreamt of making an elder. Persons who were by no means careful about their own life, and one would not have supposed had any great concern about the character of the officers of the Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, and a very sound one, about the qualifications for an elder; and if one of themselves had been proposed would have regarded the idea as an insult, not to them but to the Church. “Me an elder,” he would have said; “for ony sake be quiet; there maun be nae jokin' on sich subjects. When you and me are made elders the kirk had better be closed.” For the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and, indeed, in every right-thinking parish, not only with morality and integrity, but with gravity and spirituality.
No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked land in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded his father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain, for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a written document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at Muirtown markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. Beyond all that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, that Rochally was a religious man, who not only had worship in his house, with his men servants and his women servants present, but also worshipped God in all Christian living from year to year. He was also a man of substance, and if that could be got with other things, the parish preferred it in an elder, and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of which, indeed, he was the mainstay. If he was not married, and was never likely now to marry, it could not be helped, but there was nothing else wanting to make him the perfect model of an elder.
As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer of Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly requested that his name be dropped, “for reasons which are sufficient to my own conscience.” And although three ministers in succession, and a generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character and to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had long ago despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they would never have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point of attending, and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was obstinate, and the event had become a custom at the election of elders in the Free Kirk.
No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in the Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member on their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and attend every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also gamer the utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was also felt that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper and placed before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, as they would do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did refuse he would have to do what he had not done yet—give his reasons. If they could only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, by any innocent ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the battle would be won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister and elders of Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had been thinking for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the father of the Session, had “won awa'” at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains could only sit on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning the matter over in their minds—for nothing was done hurriedly in Thomgreen—it spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the unprecedented period of four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who had risen to high position in England, and partly to try some baths for the mild rheumatism which was his only illness. It seemed a providential arrangement, and one which they must use wisely, and if anything could have been read on the severe countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might have guessed that some conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren good-bye after Kirk one Sabbath.