Geordie's Tryst: A Tale of Scottish Life

by Janet Milne Rae

was a lovely autumn evening. The valley of Kirklands lay flooded in the sunset glow. Its yellowing fields were tinged with warm-crimson and purple, and the golden light shimmered on the trees and fringed the dark fir tops. Never had her home looked more beautiful, Grace thought, when, at last, the brother and sister turned to go indoors, after their earnest talk. She stood leaning on the old carved railing of the steps, taking one more glance at the peaceful scene before she followed Walter into the darkening entrance-hall, when her eye caught sight of a stumpy figure which she thought she recognised.

It was little Jean Baxter, who hurried along the elm avenue as fast as her short legs could carry her. She looked breathless and excited, and when she came nearer Grace saw that she was tearful and dishevelled. She hastened down the steps to meet her, wondering what childish grief could be agitating the mind of the usually imperturbable little Jean. When she caught eight of Grace, she threw up her arms with a loud, bitter wail that rang among the old elms, echoing through their arching branches, and startling the birds that had just gone to roost. "Oh, Miss Cam'ell! Geordie, Geordie!--he's hurt; he's dyin'; Blackie's gotten hold o' him."

It was vain to ask anything more. Jean could only repeat her wailing refrain, so taking the child's hand, Grace quietly asked her to lead the way to where Geordie was, trying to quiet her bitter weeping by such soothing words as she could muster in the midst of her own distress at the possibility of any serious accident having happened to her favourite scholar. But poor little Jean's sad monotone still rang mournfully through the soft evening air as she trotted along by Grace's side—"Geordie's dyin'; Blackie's got hold o' him."

Grace, however, managed to learn from a few incoherent words that the boy was lying, in whatever state he might be, at the river side, near the stepping-stones. He had, that afternoon, taken the cattle, along with the dangerous bull, to the heathery knolls, where Gowrie's careful soul grudged that any morsel of pasture should remain unused. Geordie had always been most careful in warning unwary passers-by of their danger, for, though fearless enough himself, he still held that Blackie was the "ill-natertest bull in all the country-side," and never felt easy in his mind except when he had him within the fences of the upland fields. He had once or twice tried to tether the animal near one of the hillocks, but he saw that it made his temper more dangerous than ever; besides, the little patches of green pasture were so scattered through the heather, and had carefully to be scented out by discriminating noses, that to have fettered poor Blackie to one spot seemed to him a crying injustice, uneasy as he felt at his being able to roam at large so near a thoroughfare. Geordie had never even allowed himself the luxury of Jean's company when there were no fences to put between Blackie and her.

But that day the harvest holidays had been given at the girls' school. There had been prizes distributed and an examination held which lasted till evening. Elsie Gray had got several trophies of her diligence, but the great and unexpected event of the day was that little Jean had actually got a prize. She was nearly beside herself with ecstasy as she clutched the gay crimson and gilt volume which was presented to her, and resented that it should even for a moment be absent from her arms to be admired by her companions. Then Geordie must hear about this unexpected honour, must see and touch the treasure at once; and Jean galloped off with the precious volume to the field where he was generally to be found perched on the paling, awaiting their coming. Elsie Gray followed, eager enough, too, to show her honours to the boy-friend, whose golden opinions she dearly loved to win. There was a pink flush on her usually pale cheek, as she glanced about in search of Geordie when they reached the field, panting and breathless after their race. But no Geordie was visible anywhere, and the field was quite empty and tenantless. Then Jean remembered, what she had forgotten in her excitement, that Geordie was to be herding at the hillocks to-day, and so she started off to find him, forgetful that his present post was forbidden ground.

The girls were not long in reaching the stepping-stones, and presently Jean was at Geordie's side, dancing round him with wild cries of delight, as she flourished her gay prize in his rather bewildered eyes. He had been lying with his face resting on his hands, on one of the soft knolls of turf, looking at the sunset, and thinking of the new lands of which he had lately been hearing from Walter Campbell. He seemed so possessed by his own thoughts and reveries that he heard no sound of coming footsteps till he looked up suddenly, and saw little Jean by his side. He jumped up from the turf, and began to look wistfully towards the river side to see if there was nobody else besides Jean coming to enliven a lonely hour.

Elsie had crossed the stepping-stones, and was moving towards the hillock on which he stood, with her sun-bonnet in one hand, and her heavy armful of shining prize books in the other with the golden sun's rays falling on her. Her dusky hair was hanging rather more loosely than usual, shaken out of its general smoothness by her hot face. The pale face was all aglow with pleasure, and her large eyes looked radiant with delight at the thoughts of the pleasure that little Jean's success, as well as her own, would give to Geordie. The boy stood with his flaxen hair all gilded by the sun, looking at her with a glad light in his blue eyes. For a moment only, and then, with a look of terror, he glanced in the opposite direction, remembering that this was dangerous ground. Blackie had been roused from his sleepy grazing by little Jean's cry of delight, and, looking up, his evil eye caught sight of Elsie, with her bright colours, made more dazzling by the sunset tints. With a toss of his head, and a few wild plunges, the brute, with his head near to the ground, and his eyes fixed on his prey, made his way towards her. Geordie shouted, "Back, Elsie; back on the stepping-stones!" but it was too late.

Elsie lost her presence of mind, and wavered backward and forward for a moment, till it was impossible to save herself by taking refuge on the other side of the stream, where Blackie, not knowing the advantage of stepping-stones, would probably not have troubled himself to follow her. In an instant Geordie had flung himself between the roused animal and Elsie. His stick still lay on the hillock, where he had been resting, so he had no weapon of defence, and Blackie, in his rage, would not spare the faithful lad, who had spent so many lonely hours by his side. In another moment, Geordie was lying gored and senseless on the heather.

Elsie had reached the stepping-stones, and stood there transfixed like a marble statue. Blackie might follow her now if he had a mind to, but he had not. After a glance at Geordie, he plunged away with his heels in the air through the heather, having an uneasy consciousness that he had lost his temper, and treated a good friend rather roughly.

As for little Jean, she had fortunately happened to be beyond Blackie's range of observation; for it was on Elsie that his sole gaze had been fixed, and he only vented his baulked fury on Geordie when the vision of bright colours slipped away. Gowrie's ploughman happened to be passing near, and had been a witness of the scene, though it was impossible for him to give timely help. Elsie Gray, he noticed, was now safe on the stepping-stones, and Geordie lying on the heather, with all the mischief done to him that Blackie was likely to do. But the enraged animal might attack somebody else presently, and the man thought the best service he could render was to secure Blackie against doing further injury. Never did repentant criminal receive handcuffs with more submission than the guilt-stricken Blackie the badge of punishment. There was a subdued pathetic look of almost human remorse and woe in the eye of the brute, as he was led past the place where Geordie lay low among the heather. The hands that had so often fed him and made a clean soft bed for him at night, often stroking his great knotted neck, and never raised in unjust punishment, lying helpless and shattered now, and the fair locks hung across his face, all dabbled with blood. Elsie was now kneeling by his side, but he was quite unconscious of her presence, and heedless of her low wailing, as she looked wildly round to see if nobody was coming to help Geordie, who had helped her so bravely. Little Jean had hurried shrieking to the farm, with the news of the accident, and Mistress Gowrie presently appeared, to Elsie's intense relief. She was a kindly woman, and felt conscience-stricken as she kneeled beside the little herd-boy; for she knew that it was not with his will that Blackie roamed at large among those knolls. She had happened to hear his last expostulation with her husband on the point; and this was how it had ended. But she did not think he was dead. Elsie could hardly restrain a cry of delight when she heard the whispered word that he lived still. How joyfully she carried water in her sun-bonnet from the flowing river, how tenderly she sprinkled it on his face and hands, and wiped the bloodstained locks.