Scottie

“ He’s the best and the whitest man on the Ridge,” cried Mrs. Dan. “You know I think a lot o’ Steve. He once did something for Dan and me that I’ll never forget. And I’d give a hand to help him.”
Scottie said nothing, and laid his empty cup down carefully. Mrs. Dan saw her chance slipping away. “You like Steve yourself, don’t you? You don’t believe he’s as bad as some make out?”
“I’ve kenned waur,” said Scottie, non-committally.
“Would you have anything to say against it if you knew Steve was in love with Miss Ess, or she with him?” ”

“ And she can tell you after I’m gone. And thanks for all you’ve done, and for making it easy as possible for me, Scottie, without asking any questions.”
“Hoot, lad,” said Scottie. “I’ll fasten the things tae yer saddle. It’s no that it maks a grain o’ difference tae me, Stevie, an’ I’m no just curious, but I micht be better able tae help. Is’t onything vera bad, an’ can I dae onything?”
“It’s the worst,” said Steve, briefly. Scottie held out his hand, and when Steve took it, wrung it with the grip of a vice.
“Man,” he said, “I’m sair sorry for’t. But good luck tae ye, lad.” ”

“ What a wonderful rider. Who is it?”
“Naething wonderful,” said Scottie, calmly. “There’s no a man on the Ridge here but could do the same within a second or two. But yon’s the man I was speakin’ o’. The best horseman and the worst character on Coolongolong station—Steve Knight.”
CHAPTER III. None of the men saw Ess Lincoln that night. She was dead beat, Scottie said, and had turned in after some tea and tucker. Next morning they were all up and away about their work before Ess was up or out, but after supper that evening Scottie brought her over and introduced her to the men. ”

“ Ess shuddered. “Are there any of these sheep about where—where we’ll be living?” she asked.
“No, no,” said Scottie. “Thunder Ridge is back on the edge of the hills, an’ we keep the hills for cattle. An’ even if we shift the sheep tae the hills they’ll no come near the house.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Ess. “I couldn’t sleep if those poor things were about.”
Scottie looked at her in surprise. “I forgot,” he said. “Ye’re no used tae this sort o’ thing, an’ it’ll be—unpleasant tae ye. ”

“ Get this boot off and slit my trouser leg up, Whip, and don’t stand there glaring like a stuck pig, Dolly. See if you can find a couple of straight sticks for splints; and kill your own dingo next time, please.”
And when he was brought in to the Ridge—fainting twice on the way—and Scottie came to see him, all he had to say was “I’m dead sorry, Scottie; I know you can’t well spare a man these days.”
He was more cheerful when Ess came over to see him, and he grinned at her and exulted openly. “You’ll have to nurse me, Miss Ess,” he said. “And Ned or any other man can say what he likes. ”

“ But Steve was sick enough of his unusual inaction, and he jumped at the chance that Scottie gave him of a day’s work in the hills amongst the cattle.
“I’m terrible short-handed, Steve,” said Scottie, “an’ the beasties will be as wild as deer, I’m thinkin’. So if ye think ye’re fit enough tae tackle them an’ the Whistlin’ Hills, I’ll be real glad o’ yer help.” ”

“ And he laughed when Steve swore at him for letting the water run down his arm and soak his shirt-sleeve, and threatened if they said much more to flop out of bed, leg and all, and crawl out into the rain.
Scottie caught his horse and rode down the hill track and out on to the plains, and came back with the water streaming from his hat and cloak, and told the men that “The flat was full o’ water as a wet sponge, an’ the billabong full an’ rinnin’ fast.” And the men cheered the news as men cheer a stubborn fight and gallant victory. ”

“ He dropped wearily on the ground.
“So you’ve got them here?” said Ess.
“Aye,” said Scottie; “question is, will they stick here?”
“There’s the hill to get them up yet, Miss Ess,” explained Steve. “That’s going to be the worst of the lot. The brutes are done—can hardly hobble. It’s a mile or two of rough going over the hill to water, and we can’t carry ’em in our arms.”
“Oh, and I thought you’d won when you got them to here,” cried Ess, in dismay. “Don’t say we’re beaten after all.”
“Mebbe no just beaten,” said Scottie, cautiously, “bit I’m no sayin’ we’ve won.” ”

“ The Scottie is a stout hearted little fellow with plenty of pugnacity, qualities which stand him in good stead when, in his native land, he is asked to turn the fox out of his lair in the rocks. The task is not always easy, but the labour in which he delights physics pain, and he proceeds with zest to bring Reynard to his master's gun, for in Scotland vulpicide is no sin. In the rough country hounds are useless, and foxes are to be kept under or they will become a nuisance. ”

“ The bullock nearest him lunged viciously with its horns, and the horse evaded the thrust by a swift side leap that would have unseated many men. For all they could do, the brutes went back into the main mass with a rush. A shivering heave ran through the mob, spreading from the point of contact as ripples spread in a pond from a flung stone. The leading ranks broke into a trot and quickened to a canter, and the men tore up in front again and fell on them with the whips, and strove to beat them back. They went on so for the best part of a mile, and then Scottie galloped to the front. ”

“ Scottie rose stiffly to his feet and climbed into the saddle. “Ye’d better go home, Ess,” he said. “This is goin’ tae be an all-nicht job. We’ll be there by sun-up. If they’re no ower the hill by that, we’re beat.”
“I’ll wait here for a bit, uncle,” she said. “I couldn’t rest not knowing how it’s going to finish.”
Steve stood for a moment before mounting, while Scottie moved away.
“Looks like Buckley’s chance for my spec., Miss Ess,” he said.
“I’m so—so sorry,” she said.
“We’ll fight it out to the finish, anyway,” he said. “The boys are keeping at it good.” ”

“ Scottie sat in silence turning over the two items, and trying to find a possible reason for them.
“I’ll no ask questions, Ess,” he said at last, “but I hope ye’re no just goin’ on hearsay, or on tales ye may have heard. Whiles things get sair distorted, an’ it’s hard tae judge. I’m loathe to think Steve wad hae gie’n ye cause——”
“No more loathe than I was,” she said bitterly. “But I’m not acting on hearsay. I’ve seen him, and—everything is ended. Let us say no more, please.” ”

“ Dan. “For she often doesn’t herself. Miss Ess has been living down in the cities most of her time, I hear?” Scottie made no reply. He was acting on the truism that “if no questions are asked, no lies need be told,” and he improved on it by adding “and no truths.”
“She’d find the men out here a thought rough after being used to folks with city ways,” said Mrs. Dan, “although you’ve some real well-spoken an’ well-educated men at Thunder Ridge—Ned himself is that, and so is Aleck Gault and Steve Knight. Though Steve’s the best o’ the bunch to my way of thinkin’. ”

“ Mackellar? I’m not asking out of idle curiosity,” said Mrs. Dan. “I’ll be having a talk with her soon, and I might be able to help her. You know a woman can often tell and ask another woman things she can’t or won’t a man.”
“It was Ned Gunliffe,” said Scottie. Mrs. Dan mentally clapped her hands.
She dropped the subject as lightly as she could, so as to take a new line.
“He’s a man I don’t know much of—well or ill,” she said, “but I’ve no doubt Miss Ess will have acted wisely.”
“I’m glad ye’re sure o’ that,” said Scottie, drily. Mrs. Dan felt uncomfortable. “But aren’t you?” she asked. ”

“ Scottie Mackellar had been munching at his bread and meat, and swallowing his hot tea in silence. “How are they making out, uncle?” she asked him.
“No’ very good,” said Scottie. “They’re beginnin’ tae drop in droves, an’ they’re too weak tae more than crawl. We’re keepin’ them on the move through the nicht.”
“Forced marching, you see,” said Steve; “it’s do or die with them now. If we can get them into the hills by to-morrow night we may pull them through; if not——” he broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
“Are ye going back for that buggy to-night?” asked Scottie. ”

“ CHAPTER V. “Steve,” said Scottie next morning, before they started work in the mulga paddocks, “we’re tae camp here for a few days. Ride back t’ the Ridge, will ye, an’ bring Ess back in the buggy. Bring the six b’ eight tent, and tell Blazes to bring the cart wi’ blankets an’ tucker for the men.”
So Steve dropped his axe and flung the saddle back on his horse, and in ten minutes was cantering hard across the flats under the scorching sun. “Wonder why Scottie picked me to come,” he thought. “Won’t the others be mad?” ”

“ Steve was thoroughly astonished, and for a moment taken aback. Then he barely bowed his head to her. “That is very kind of you, Miss Lincoln. Kinder than I deserve, perhaps, but—thank you.”
“I feel better,” said Ess, lightly; “I hate being mean. Now, good night all.”
She walked back to the house with Scottie, feeling curiously elated and happy. “Did I do right?” she asked him.
“Hech, lassie,” said Scottie, smiling under his moustache. “How’s a mere man tae follow the workin’s o’ a woman’s mind? ”

“ Wise. “It’s Scottie, the Park View dog.”
209The gardener literally burst the envelope open. The enclosure said: “Dear Gardener—Will you please keep Scottie until I ask you for him again.—Your fairly sincere suffragette.”
The note went round the Bridge Table.
“I have always wondered,” said Mrs. Rust, “whether politics were really good for women. Now I am sure that they have an unhinging tendency. What does it mean?”
“It means that they are going on an expedition,” said Courtesy. “They want the dog looked after for a day or two.”
“Why, but Park View is a regular palace in Greyville,” said Mr. ”

“ They know what it means, and it’s hard on them waiting. But we’ll battle through yet, maybe, or we’ll go down trying. Eh, Mackellar?”
“We’ll dae that at least,” said Scottie.
“I’ve good men, Mackellar. Good men. There’s not a lad amongst them wouldn’t spend his last ounce to win through. It helps an old man, Miss Lincoln, to feel that good men are at his back to hammer things through. It helps a lot—a lot.”
He dropped the whip lightly on his horses.
“I’m going to have a look at Number Seven tank, Mackellar,” he said. “Good-bye just now, Miss Lincoln. ”

“ He had lapsed into the broader speech he always used when he was moved to deeper feelings or excitement, and the girl glanced at his set face curiously.
“I wonder you get men to face it,” she said, “when there are easier lives to be lived elsewhere.”
“Aye, aye, whiles I wunner mysel’,” agreed Scottie. “But the breed o’ men ye get here’s hardened tae’t. It’s a hard life, but they’re hard men. Ye’ll meet some o’ them up at the Ridge. Ye’ll find them rough an’ ready mebbe, you bein’ used wi’ city folk. But they’re good lads at heart maistly, though they hae their faults mebbe.” ”

“ You're the best of us all at headwork and planning, but you don't swing your gun as fast, and you don't shoot as straight as Jeff or Larry or Joe. Is that straight?"
"What's leading the gang got to do with righting?" asked Scottie harshly. "And who's got the right to the head of things but me?"
"Ask Allister what fighting had to do with the running of things," said Andrew calmly. The moon was sliding up out of the East; it changed the faces of the men and made them oddly animallike; they stared, fascinated, at Andrew. "There's two reasons why I'm going to run this job, if we stick together. ”

“ Can I help drive them?”
“I’ll lend you my stockwhip,” said Steve. “All you have to do is ride behind the mob and crack the whip. And it’s so easy to crack a stockwhip.”
“Now I know you’re fibbing,” she said accusingly. “Because uncle warned me, one day I had his, that I might cut my head off with it. Didn’t you, uncle?”
“Maybe no cut it off a’thegither,” said Scottie, “but ye can gie yersel’ a nasty bit slash wi’t.”
“Then I’ll cut you a long pole, and you can prod them in the ribs, and punch them up with it,” said Steve.
“Why prod them and crack whips at them?” asked Ess. ”

“ There is, in the eyes of Scott devotees, an Inner Circle, a “Holy of Holies”, of the Scott Country, and, fortunately for the pilgrim to these shrines, its centre lies where the main lines of road and rail, like those of river-drainage, converge around the meeting-place of Ettrick, Gala, and Leader with Tweed—under the shadow of the Eildon Hills and beside those two “miraculous” products of the hand and brain of man—Melrose Abbey and Abbotsford House. ”

“ It's word's going up, and word's going down,
Going to the king's bower,
That his dear daughter was with child,
That was his daily flower.
'If she be with child,
As I suppose she be,
I'll put her into prison strong,
And hunger her till she die.'
The king he wrote a letter broad,
And sealed it with his hands,
And sent it down to Johnnie Scott,
In Scotland where he stands. ”

“ Station, power, wealth, beauty, and genius, strove with each other in every demonstration of respect and worship, and—a few political fanatics and envious poetasters apart—wherever he appeared in town or country, whoever had Scotch blood in him, "gentle or simple," felt it move more rapidly through his veins when he was in the presence of Scott.' But in the midst of this blaze of glory, and while he was dreaming dreams of fortune and family pride, what was it that struck the most keen-eyed of critics when he first saw his hero? ”

“ It seems more at home, also, in the valleys of the Teviot, the Ettrick, and the Yarrow than on the Leader, the Gala, 9 and other northern affluents of the Tweed. Accident and propinquity may have helped to determine his choice of scene and theme; but old associations and affinities may have done still more. The nearer the Border line of the Cheviots, the thicker are footprints of the clan and national frays of old—of battles and skirmishes in which Scott’s own ancestry took more than their share; and the deeper and richer the soil of tradition in which he delighted to delve. ”