XI.
SANDY STANDS "EMPIRE" AT A CRICKET MATCH.
I was sittin' on Friday nicht, readin' awa' at some bits o' the_Herald_ I didna get at on Fursday, when the shop door gaed clash backto the wa', an' in hammered fower or five bits o' loons a' at the heelso' ane anither. When they saw me, they stood stock still, dichtin'their noses wi' their jeckit sleeves, an' glowerin' like as monyfleggit sheep.
"Go on, Jock," says ane o' them, gien anither ane a shuve forrit."You're the captain; speak you."
Jock gae a host, an' syne layin' his hand--a gey clorty ane it was--onthe coonter, an' stanin' on ae fit, he says--"Isyin?"
"Wha micht he be?" says I.
"Sandy," said the captain.
"What Sandy?" says I.
"No," said ane o' the birkies ahent; "your Sandy--Sandy Bowden."
"Ay, he's in," says I; "but you shud mind an' gie fowk their richtnames when ye're seeking them. Ye micht hae smeddum enough to sayMester Bowden, or Alexander Bowden. Your teacher michta tell't yethat."
I gaed awa' doon the yaird to get Sandy, an' juist as I was gaen oot atthe back door I heard ane o' the sackets sayin', "What's she chatterin'aboot? She ca's him Sandy hersel'; I've heard her of'en." Did ever yehear what impident young fowk's gettin' noo-a-days? It's raleyterriple. When I was young, if I'd sen the like o' that, I'd gotten asmack i' the side o' the heid that wudda garred the wa' tak's anither.
"Oo, ay," says Sandy, when I tell't him. "That'll be the lads frae theCallyfloor C.C. They said they were mibby genna look yont the nicht."
He cam' up an' took the loons to the back shop, an' I heard them sayin'they wantit him to be empire at their match wi' the second eleven o'the Collie Park. There was a fell kurn fowk cam' into the shop, an' Ididna hear nae mair; but efter a whilie Sandy cam' to the door wi' theladdies, an', gien his hand a wave, he says to them, as they were gaenawa, "A' richt than; three sharp; I'll do my best."
"What's this noo?" says I. "Nae mair o' yer fitba' pliskies, I howp."
"Oh no," says Sandy. "That's a deputation frae the Callyfloor C.C. Igae them a tume orange box a week or twa syne to haud their bats an'wickets, an' they made me their pattern."
"A gey queer pattern," says I, wi' a lauch. "Faigs, Sandy, if theyshape themselves efter your pattern, their mithers an' wives--if everthey get that len'th--'ill lose a hankie o' sleep wi' them, I'mthinkin'."
"Auch, Bawbie, ye're juist haverin' like some auld aipplewife," saysSandy. "That's no' the kind o' pattern I mean;" an' awa' he gaed forthe _Herald_ an' turned up a bit noos I never noticed, sayin' that"Alexander Bowden, Esq., had been elected patron of the CauliflowerC.C., and had contributed handsomely to the funds of the club."
"Oo ay! I see," says I. "An' what did you handsomely gie to the fundso' the club?"
"O, that's juist the orange box," says Sandy. "But they want me forempire the morn's efternune. They're genna play the second eleven o'the Collie Park C.C. a match at bat an' wickets on the Wast Common.It'll be a rare affair. Ye micht get Mistress Kenawee to look efterthe shop for an 'oor or twa, an' come ootbye, Bawbie."
Ay, weel, to mak' a lang story short, Sandy an' me got ootbye to theWast Common on Setarday efternune; an' awa we gaed up to a corner o'the Common whaur there was aboot a hunder loons gaithered. The looniethat they ca'd the captain cam' forrit. He was berfit, an' had hisjecket an' weyscot aff, an' his gallaces lowsed i' the front an' tiedroond his weyst.
"We've won the toss, Sandy," says he, "an' the Collie Park's gennahandle the willa first. We've sent them in to see what they'll mak'."
Sandy took me up the brae a bit, an' I got set doon on the girss wi'Nathan aside me. I took him wi's juist to explain the match, d'ye see,an' aboot the bats an' wickets, an' sic like, an' so on, because I'mno' juist acquant wi' a' the oots an' ins o' the thing. A lot o' theloons gathered roond an' lay doon on the girss, an' they keepit theirtongues gaen to the playin', I can tell ye. Ye wudda thocht they kentmair aboot cricket than the loons that were playin'.
Weel, the match got startit. They set Sandy at the end nearest thedyke; an', faigs, he lookit gey weel, mind ye. The captain looniewirks at the heckle-machines, an' he'd gotten a len' o' the secondforeman's white canvas coat, an' gae't to Sandy. It was to keep hisshedda oot ahent the bailer's airm, Sandy said; but it didna appear tomak' ony difference to his shedda. It was juist in the auld place, asfar as I cud see.
Very weel, than, the match began, as I was sayin', an' a'thing gaedricht eneuch for a little. The Collie Park lads did fine for a while,but some o' them didna get so lang strikin' the ba' as ithers, an' theybegan to roar cheek.
"Noo, Batchy," said some o' them, as a gey mettled-lookin' loon got thebat, "strik' oot. Lat's see ye knokin' the colour oot o' SnapperMorrison's ballin'."
Sal, mind ye, an' Batchy wasna lang o' doin' that. He shut his een,an' hit sweech at the ba', an' awa' it gaed sailin' ower the dyke.
"Well away," roared the loons roond aboot me. "That's a sixer. Playup, Batchy!"
Batchy spat in his hands, an' set himsel' up for the next ba'. He lutdrive at it, but missed, an' doon gaed his wickets. Ye never heard sica row.
"A bloomin' sneak!" roared a' the laddies aside me thegither. "Dinnagae oot, Batchy. It rowed a' the road."
There was an awfu' wey-o-doin', an' aboot fifty laddies roond Sandy, a'yalpin' till him at ae time. Efter a lang laberlethan, the bailer gotthree shies at Batchy's wickets, because he tried to het what they ca'da sneak. But he missed ilky time, an' syne Batchy wallapit the ba' a'ower the Common, an' floo frae end to end o' the wickets like's hewasna wyse. It was gey slow wark for Sandy though, an' I think he hadgotten tired, for the laddies roond aboot me began to say, "There wasthirteen ba's i' that lest over; I think Sandy Bowden's dreamin'," an'so on. I think mysel' Sandy had been doverin', for the ba' hutBatchy's wicket, an' every ane o' the loons playin' gae a yowl at thesame meenit--"How's that?" Sandy near jamp ootin his white coat wi'the start; an', takin' till his heels, he was a hunder yairds doon theCommon afore ane o' the laddies grippit him by the tails, an' speeredwhaur he was fleein' till.
"I was gettin' hungrie," says Sandy. "I was gaen ower to the toll fora biskit." That was a lee; for he tell'd me efter, he dreedit, when heheard the roar, that it was ane o' Sandy Mertin's ki gane wild; an' hetook till his heels, thinkin' it was efter him.
"That bloomin' empire's a pure frost," I heard some o' the loonssayin'. "He canna coont; an' noo he's genna stop the match 'cause he'shungrie. Wha ever heard o' an empire gettin' hungrie?"
Sandy got back till his place, an' the match gaed on. "Over comin'up," said the ither empire forby Sandy; an' the laddie that was ballin'says, "Ay weel, than, I'm genna see an' get wid." He gae his arm anawfu' sweel roond, an' instead o' sendin' the ba' to the wickets, itgaed spung ower an' hut Sandy a yark i' the side o' the heid.
"There's wid," said the ither empire; "but it's no' a wicket for a'that." Sandy was springin' aboot wi' his heid in his oxter, an' a' theladdies roarin' and lauchin' like to kill themsel's.
I was ance genna gae doon an' tak' him awa' hame; but I thocht it michtlook raither queer, so I lut him aleen for a little. The captainloonie began to ball, an' a gey wild-lookin' bailer he was. The ColliePark's henmost man--he was a little berfit craturie wi' nicker-buckersan' a straw hat--was in, an' the captain gae him an awfu' crack belowthe knee wi' the ba'.
"How's that?" he yowled at Sandy.
"Man, I believe that's fell sair," says Sandy, rubbin' the swalled sideo' his heid.
A' the loons startit to the lauchin', an' the captain roars again, "Ay,but how is't?"
"Ye can easy see how it is," says Sandy. "The ba' strack him a yark onthe kut."
There was mair lauchin', an' I saw Sandy was gettin' raised.
"Is't l--b--w., ye stewpid auld bloit?" said the impident little wisgano' a captain, stickin' himsel' up afore Sandy.
"I'll l--b--double you," says Sandy, "if ye gie me ony o' your chat, yehalf-cled horn-go
loch 'at ye are"; and he took the sacket a kleip i'the side o' the heid wi' his open luif that tummeled him ower the tapo' the wickets like a puckle rags. In half a meenit a' the hunderladdies were round Sandy, an' him layin' amon' them wi' ane o' theirain wickets.
I'll swag the Gallyfloor C.C. got something frae their pattern lestSetarday efternune that they'll no forget in a hurry. Some men on theCommon cam' doon an' shoo'd the loons awa' frae pappin' Sandy wi' duds,an' we got hame withoot any farrer mishap; but a' forenicht I heardSandy wirrin' awa' till himsel', an' sayin' ilky noo an'than--"Ill-gettit little deevils; an' me gae them an' orange box too!"
Nathan cam' in juist afore I shut the shop, an' tell'd Sandy that therehad been an' awfu' row on the Common. "Some o the lads i' theCallyfloor," said Nathan, "were blamin'the captain for gien you cheek,an' said the wallop i' the lug he got saired him richt. So he got onhis jeckit an' his buits, an' got a haud o' the best bat an' the ba',an' then he roars a' his micht, 'The club's broken up.' You never sawsic a row as there was. Willy Mollison's i' the club, an' he's gottenthree bails an' a wicket. That's better gin naething. I nailed twa o'the bails till him out o' Tarn Dargie's pooch, when he was fechtin' wi'the captain. Snapper Morrison didna get onything; but he ower theCommon dyke an' in the road; an' when I was comin' hame I saw himleggin' in the Loan wi' the orange box on his heid. He had nabbit itoot o' Tooties' Nook, whaur they keepit their bats an' wickets. It's agude thing they're broken up at onyrate. I'm in the Collie Park, an'they're the only club that cud lick his lads."
"O, that's a' richt," says Sandy; an' awa' he gaed, as pleased as youlike. When I dandered doon the yaird to get a breath o' fresh air,efter I shut the shop, here's him tumblin' catmas, an' stanin' on hisheid i' the middle o' the green, gien Nathan an' twa or three itherloons coosies! Did you ever hear o' sic a man?