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Three Boys; or, the Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 7. Shon And Tavish |
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_ CHAPTER SEVEN. SHON AND TAVISH The hearty breakfast of salmon steaks, freshly-caught herrings, oat-cakes, and coffee, sweetened by the seaside appetite, seemed to place matters in a different light. The adventure in the cave that morning was rough, but Kenneth was merry and good-tempered, and ready to assure his new companion that it was for his good. Then, too, the bright sunshine, the glorious blue of the sea, and the invigorating nature of the air Max breathed, seemed to make everything look more cheerful. Before they took their places at the table, the stony look of the Scotch butler was depressing; so was the curt, distant "Good morning, Mr Blande," of The Mackhai, who hardly spoke afterwards till toward the end of the meal, but read his newspaper and letters, leaving his son to carry on the conversation. "I say, Grant, aren't there any hot scones this morning?" "No, sir," said the butler, in an ill-used whisper. "Why not?" "The cook says she can't do everything without assistance." "Then she ought to get up earlier--a lazy old toad! It was just as bad when there was a kitchen-maid." The butler looked more severe than ever, and left the room. "He's always grumbling, Max--here, have some marmalade." Max took a little of the golden preserve, and began to spread it on a piece of bread. "You are a fellow," said Kenneth mockingly; "that isn't the way to eat marmalade. Put a lot of butter on first." "What, with jam?" "Of course," said Kenneth, with a grin, as he gave a piece of bread a thick coating of yellow butter, and then plastered it with the golden red-rinded sweet. "That's the way to eat marmalade!" he cried, taking, out a fine half-moon from the slice. "That's the economical way." "Extravagant, you mean?" "No, I don't; I mean economical. Don't you see it saves the bread? One piece does for both butter and marmalade." "I don't know how you manage to eat so much. You had a fried herring and--" "A piece of salmon, and some game pie, and etceteras. That's nothing. I often have a plate of porridge as well. You'll eat as much as I do when you've been down here a week." "I hope not." "Nonsense! Why, it's just what you want. Here, you let me take you in hand, and I'll soon make a difference in you. See how white and thin you are." "Am I?" "Yes, horrid! You shall have some porridge and milk to-morrow morning. That's the stuff, as Long Shon says, to lean your back against for the day." "I don't understand you!" "Lean it against forwards," said Kenneth, laughing. "Besides, we only have two meals here a day." "Only two?" cried Max, staring. "Why, we always have four at home!" "That's because you don't know any better, I suppose. You can have lunch and tea here if you like," said Kenneth contemptuously, "but we never do--we haven't time." "Haven't time?" "No. Who's going to come back miles from shooting or fishing for the sake of a bit of lunch. I always take mine with me." "Oh, then you do take lunch?" said Max, with a look of relief. "Yes, always," said Kenneth, showing his white teeth. "I'm taking it now--inside. And old Grant's always grumbling to me about having so much to do now father does not keep any other men-servants indoors. Only two meals a day to see to, and we very seldom have any company now." "I hope Mr Blande is making a good breakfast, Kenneth," said The Mackhai, laying down his newspaper. "No, father, not half a one." "Oh, thank you, I am indeed." "I hope Mr Blande will," said The Mackhai stiffly. "Pray do not let him think we are wanting in hospitality at Dunroe." "I'll take care of him, father." "Quite right, Ken. What are you going to do to-day?" "Take him up to the Black Pools and try for a salmon, and go afterwards with the guns across the moor up Glen Doy, and then right up the Ten after a hare or two. After that we could take the boat, and--" "I think your programme is long enough for to-day, Ken," said The Mackhai dryly. "You will excuse me, Mr Blande," he continued, with formal politeness; "I have some letters to write." "How about the deer, father?" "Shon is packing them off for the South, my boy. Good morning." The Mackhai walked stiffly out of the room, and Kenneth seized a plate and knife and fork, after which he cut a triangle of a solid nature out of a grouse pie, and passed the mass of juicy bird, gelatinous gravy, and brown crust to his guest. "I couldn't, indeed I couldn't!" cried Max. "But you must," cried Kenneth, leaping up. "I'm going to ring for some more hot coffee!" "No, no, don't, pray!" cried Max, rising from the table. "Oh, all right," said Kenneth, in an ill-used manner; "but how am I to be hospitable if you won't eat? Come on, then, and I'll introduce you to Long Shon. I'll bet a shilling he has got Scood helping him, and so greasy that he won't be fit to touch." Max stared, and Kenneth laughed at his wonderment. "Didn't you hear what my father said? Shon has been skinning and breaking up the deer." "Breaking up the deer?" "Well, not with a hammer, of course. Doing what a butcher does--cutting them up in joints, you'd call it. Come along." He led the way into the hall, seized his cap, and went on across the old castle court, stopping to throw a stone at a jackdaw, perched upon one of the old towers. "He's listening for Donald. That's his place where he practises. I daresay he's up there now, only we can't stop to see." Outside the old castle they were saluted by a trio of yelps and barks, the three dogs, after bounding about their master, smelling Max's legs suspiciously, Sneeshing, of the short and crooked legs, pretending that he had never seen a pair of trousers before, and taking hold of the material to test its quality, to Max's horror and dismay. "Oh, he won't bite!" cried Kenneth; "it's only his way." "But even a scratch from a dog's tooth might produce hydrophobia," said Max nervously. "Not with Scotch dogs," said Kenneth, laughing. "Here, Sneeshing, you wouldn't give anybody hydro-what-you-may-call-it, would you, old man, eh?" He seized the rough little terrier as he spoke, and turned him over on his back, caught him by the throat and shook him, the dog retaliating by growling, snarling, and pretending to worry his master's hand. This piece of business excited Dirk the collie, who shook out his huge frill, gave his tail a flourish, and made a plunge at the prostrate dog, whom he seized by a hind leg, to have Bruce's teeth fixed directly in his great rough hide, when Kenneth rose up laughing. "Worry, worry!" he shouted; and there was a regular canine scuffle, all bark and growl and suppressed whine. "They'll kill the little dog," cried Max excitedly. "What, Sneeshing? Not they. It's only their fun. Look!" For Sneeshing had shaken himself free of Dirk, over whose back he leaped, then dashed under Bruce, raced round the other two dogs for a few moments, and then darted off, dodging them in and out among the rocks, the others in full pursuit till they were all out of breath, when Sneeshing came close up to his master's heels, Bruce trotted up and thrust his long nose into his hand, while Dirk went to the front, looked up inquiringly, and then, keeping a couple of yards in front, led the way toward a cluster of grey stone buildings hidden from the castle by a stumpy group of firs. "He knows where we are going," said Kenneth, laughing, and stopping as they reached the trees. "Hear that! Our chief singing bird." Max stared inquiringly at his guide, as a peculiar howl came from beyond the trees, which sounded as if some one in a doleful minor key was howling out words that might take form literally as follows:-- "Ach--na--shena--howna howna--wagh--hech--wagh!" "Pretty, isn't it?" said Kenneth, laughing. "Come away. The ponies are in here." He led the way into a comfortable stable, whereupon there was a rattling of headstalls, and three ugly big rough heads were turned to look at him, and three shaggy manes were shaken. "Hallo, Whaup! Hallo, Seapie! Well, Walter!" cried Kenneth, going up and patting each pony in turn, the little animals responding by nuzzling up to him and rubbing their ears against his chest. "Look here!" cried Kenneth. "This is Walter. You'll ride him. Come and make friends." Max approached, and then darted back, for, rip rap, the pony's heels flew out, and as he was standing nearly across the stall, they struck the division with a loud crack, whose sound made Max leap away to the stable wall. "Quiet, Wat!" cried Kenneth, doubling his fist and striking the pony with all his might in the chest. The sturdy little animal uttered a cry more like a squeal than a neigh, shook its head, reared up, and began to strike at the lad with his hoofs so fiercely, that. Kenneth darted out of the stall, the halter checking the pony when it tried to follow, and keeping it in its place in the punishment which followed. "That's it, is it, Master Wat, eh?" cried Kenneth, running to a corner of the stable, and taking down a short thick whip which hung from a hook. "You want another lesson, do you, my boy? You've had too many oats lately. Now we shall see. Stand a little back, Max." This Max readily did, the pony eyeing them both the while, with its head turned right round, and making feints of kicking. The next minute it began to dance and plunge and kick in earnest, as, by a dexterous usage of the whip, Kenneth gave it crack after crack, each sounding report being accompanied by a flick on the pony's ribs, which evidently stung sharply, and made it rear and kick. "I'll teach you to fight, my lad. You rhinoceros-hided old ruffian, take that--and take that--and take that." "Hey! what's the matter, Master Ken?" cried a harsh voice. "Kicking and biting, Shon. I'll teach him," cried Kenneth, thrashing away at the pony. "I wish he had been clipped, so that I could make him feel." "Hey! but ye mak' him feel enough, Master Ken. An' is this the shentleman come down to stay?" "There's one more for you, Wat, my boy. Don't let him have any more oats to-day, Shon," cried Kenneth, giving the pony a final flick. "Yes, this is our visitor, Shon. Max, let me introduce you. This is Long Shon Ben Nevis Talisker Teacher, Esquire, Gillie-in-chief of the house of Mackhai, commonly called Long Shon from his deadly hatred of old whusky--eh, Shon?" "Hey, Master Kenneth, if there was chokers and chief chokers down south, an' ye'd go there, ye'd mak' a fortune," said the short, broad-set man, with a grin, which showed a fine set of very yellow teeth; "and I'm thenking that as punishment aifter a hard job, ye might give me shust a snuff o' whusky in a sma' glass." "Father said you were never to have any whisky till after seven o'clock." "Hey, but the Chief's never hard upon a man," said Shon, taking off his Tam-o'-Shanter, and wiping his brow with the worsted tuft on the top; then, turning with a smile to Max, "I'm thenking ye find it a verra beautiful place, sir?" "Oh yes, very," replied Max. "And the Chiefs a gran' man. Don't ye often wonder he ever had such a laddie as this for a son?" "Do you want me to punch your head, Shon?" said Kenneth. Shon chuckled. "As hard as hard, sir; never gives a puir fellow a taste o' whusky." "Look here, have you broken up the deer?" "Broke up the deer, indeed? Why, she wass just finished packing them up in ta boxes." "Come and see, Max," cried Kenneth, leading the way into a long, low building, badly lit by one small window, through which the sun shone upon a man seated crouched together upon a wooden block, with one elbow upon his bare knee, and a pipe held between his lips. "Hallo, Tavish, you here?" cried Kenneth. "Here, Max, this is our forester. Stand up, Tavish, and let him see how tall you are." Max had stopped by the doorway, for the smell and appearance of the ill-ventilated place were too suggestive of a butcher's business to make it inviting; but he had taken in at a glance a pile of deal cases, a block with knives, chopper, and saw, and the heads, antlers, and skins of a couple of red deer. The smoker smiled, at least his eyes indicated that he smiled, for the whole of the lower part of his face was hidden by the huge beard which swept down over his chest, and hid his grey flannel shirt, to mingle with the hairy sporran fastened to his waist. Then the pipe was lowered, two great brown hairy hands were placed upon his knees, and, as the muscular arms straightened, the man slowly heaved up his back, keeping his head bent down, till his broad shoulders nearly touched the sloping roof, and then he took a step or two forward. "She canna stand quite up without knocking her head, Master Kenneth." "Yes, you can--there!" cried Kenneth. "Now then, head up. There, Max, what do you think of him? Six feet six. Father says he's half a Scandinavian. He can take Shon under one arm and Scood under the other, and run with them up-hill." Max stared wonderingly at the great good-tempered-looking giant, with high forehead and kindly blue eyes, which made him, with his aquiline nose, look as grand a specimen of humanity as he had ever seen. "She knockit her head against that beam once, sir and it's made her verra careful ever since. May she sit down now, Master Kenneth?" "Yes, all right, Tavish; I only wanted my friend to see how big you are." "Ah, it's no great thing to be so big, sir," said the great forester, slowly subsiding, and doubling himself up till he was once more in reasonable compass on the block. "It makes people think ye can do so much wark, and a man has a deal to carry on two legs." "Tavish is afraid of the work," grumbled Shon. "I did all these up mysel'." "An' why not?" said the great forester, in a low, deep growl. "She found the deer for the Chief yester, and took the horns when he'd shot 'em and prought 'em hame as a forester should." "Never mind old Shon, Tavish. Look here, what are you going to do to-day?" "Shust rest hersel' and smock her pipe." "No; come along with us, Tav. I want my friend here to catch a salmon." "Hey! she'll come," said the forester, in a low voice which sounded like human thunder, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, he stuck the stem inside his sock beside the handle of a little knife, but started slightly, for the bowl burnt his leg, and he snatched it out and thrust it in the goatskin pocket that hung from his waistband. "And Scood and me are to be left to get off these boxes!" cried Shon angrily. "No, you'll have to do it all yourself, Shon," said Kenneth, laughing; "Scood's coming along with us." "Scood--die!" he shouted as soon as he was outside, and there was an answering yell, followed by the pat pat of footsteps as the lad came running up. Tavish bent down as if he were going to crawl as he came out of the door. "Why, you stoop like an old goose coming out of a barn, Tavvy," cried Kenneth, laughing. "How particular you are over that old figurehead of yours." "Well, she's only got one head, Master Kenneth; and plows on the top are not coot for a man." "Never mind, come along. Here, Scood, get two rods and the basket. You'll find the fly-book and the gaff on the shelf." "I have a fishing-rod--a new one," said Max excitedly. "Oh! ah! so you have," replied Kenneth. "Never mind, we'll try that another day. Can you throw a fly?" "I think so," said Max dubiously. "I never tried, though." The big forester stared down at him, as he drew a blue worsted cap of the kind known as Glengarry from his waist, where it had been hanging to the handle of a hunting-knife or dirk, and, as he slowly put it on over his shaggy brown hair, his fine eyes once more seemed to laugh. "He'll catch one, Tavvy, a forty-pounder, eh?" cried Kenneth, giving the forester a merry look. "Nay, she shall not catch a fush like that," said the forester. "Get out! How do you know?" cried Kenneth. "Oh, she kens that verra weel. She shall not catch the fush till she knows how." "We'll see about that," cried Kenneth, catching Max by the arm. "Here, Tav, you see that Scood gets the rods all right. I want to introduce Mr Blande to old Donald." "She will be all retty," said the forester, nodding his head slowly, and standing gazing after the two lads till they were some yards away, when he stopped the nodding motion of his head and began to shake it slowly, with his eyes seeming to laugh more and more. "She means little cames with the laddie; she means little cames." _ |
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