The service in the "auld kirk", as the parish church is called, being over, the congregation were walking home. One or two of its members had already passed the window where sat the eager and expectant conspirators. Jock Hall, with a bunch of flowers, was ready to run down-stairs, to the close mouth, the moment the appointed signal was given. Very soon the Sergeant and his wife made their appearance a little way off, while Mary--how fortunate for the plotters!--followed at some distance. No sooner were they discovered, than the two women retired from the window, and gave the signal to Hall to "be off!" They then ensconced themselves, as previously arranged, at the back of the door, with eager and palpitating hearts.
Jock sprang out, shutting the door after him, and rattling down-stairs reached the street just as Mary was within a few yards. When she was passing the close, he stepped out, and with a kind voice, said: "I hae a message for your faither, Mary dear! Jist speak to me aff the street." Mary, no longer associating Hall with the thought of a wild man, but of one who had been a guest of the Sergeant's, entered the close. Jock Hall gave her the flowers and said: "Gie this posey to your mither, for the gran' tea she made for me; and gie this half-croon to yer faither for the braw boots he patched for me. Noo run awa', my bonnie lassie, and be guid, and do whatever yer faither and mither bid ye, or Jock Hall wull be angry wi' ye--run!"
Mrs. Craigie, in her excitement and curiosity, could not resist the temptation of going again to the window, and no sooner had she seen Mary enter the close than she ran to her retreat behind the door, whispering joyfully to Mrs. Dalrymple, "The wee deevil is catched, and coming!"
In a moment Jock was at the door, and while he firmly held the key outside, he opened it so far as to let in his head. Then addressing the women, he said in an under-breath, or rather hiss: "Whisht! dinna speak! I catched her! I gied her the posey for Mrs. Mercer--I gied her the half-croon to pay Mr. Mercer for my boots!--and she's hame!--an' ye'll never get her!--You twa limmers are cheated! If ye cheep, I'll tell the Shirra. Jock Hall is nae hypocrite! Deil tak' ye baith, and Smellie likewise! I'm aff!" and before a word could be spoken by the astonished conspirators, Jock locked the door upon them, and flinging the key along the passage he sprang down-stairs and fled no one knew whither!
Mary gave the bouquet of flowers to Mrs. Mercer, whose only remark was: "Wha wad hae thocht it!" and she gave the half-crown to Adam, who said: "I never hae been as thankfu' for a day's wage! Pit it in the drawer, and keep it for Jock. I'm no feared but wi' God's help I'll mak' a sodger o' him yet! For as Charlie's bairn weel remarks: 'A man's a man for a' that'."
CHAPTER XV
JOCK HALL'S JOURNEY
John Spence, who, as we have seen, was connected with the early history of Adam Mercer, had now reached an extreme old age, somewhere between eighty and ninety years. As he himself for a considerable time had stuck to the ambiguous epoch of "aboon fourscore", it was concluded by his friends that his ninth decade had nearly ended. He was hale and hearty, however,--"in possession of all his faculties", as we say--with no complaint but "the rheumatics", which had soldered his joints so as to keep him generally a prisoner in the large chair "ayont the fire", or compel him to use crutches, when he "hirpled" across the floor. He was able, however, in genial weather, to occupy the bench at his cottage door, there to fondle the young dogs, and to cultivate the acquaintance of the old ones. He had long ago given up all active work, and was a pensioner on his Lordship; but he still tenaciously clung to the title of "Senior Keeper". The vermin even which he had killed, and nailed, as a warning to evil-doers, over the gable-ends and walls of outhouses, had, with the exception of a few fragments of bleached fossils, long since passed away, giving place to later remains.
John was a great favourite with his master; and his advice was asked in all matters connected with the game on the estate of Castle Bennock. His anecdotes and reminiscences of old sporting days which he had spent with three generations of the family, and with generations of their friends and relations, were inexhaustible. And when the great annual festival of "the 12th" came round, and the Castle was crowded, and the very dogs seemed to snuff the game in the air and became excited, then John's cottage, with its kennels and all its belongings, was a constant scene of attraction to the sportsmen; and there he held a sort of court, with the dignity and gravity of an old Nimrod.
The cottage was beautifully situated in a retired nook at the entrance of a glen, beside a fresh mountain stream, and surrounded by a scattered wood of wild birches, mountain ash, and alder. The first ridge of Benturk rose beyond the tree tops, with an almost perpendicular ascent of loose stones, ribbed by wintry floods, and dotted by tufts of heather and dots of emerald-green pasture, up to the range of rocks which ramparted the higher peaks, around which in every direction descended and swept far away the endless moorland of hill and glen.