or bring down a birdon the wing, but he was not particularly clever with the pen. I wish Icould say that he was.
He now got a small bag out of the cupboard, and into this he put achange of clothes. Having washed and dressed, he was ready for theroad.
He opened his door quietly, and walked silently along the passage, bootsin hand. He had to pass his mother's room door. His heart beat high,it thumped against his ribs so that he could almost hear it. How hewould have liked to have gone in, and kissed his dear mother good-bye!But he dared not.
Not until he was quite out of doors among the snow did he put on hisboots. Eily, not knowing him, made a rush, barking and fiercelygrowling.
"Hush, Eily! hush!" he cried; "it's me, it's Harry, your master."
Eily changed her tune now, and also her attitude. The hair that hadbeen standing up all along her back was smoothed down at once, and asthe boy bent to tie his boots she licked his hands and cheek. The poordog seemed really to know that something more than usual was in thewind.
There was a glimmer of light in the east, but the stars everywhere elsewere still very bright.
Harry stood up.
Eily sat motionless, looking eagerly up into his face, and her eyessparkled in the starlight.
She was waiting for her master's invitation to go along with him. Oneword would have been enough to have sent her wild with joy.
"Where can he be going?" she was asking herself. "Not surely to theforest at this time of night! But wherever he goes, I'll go too."
"Eily," said the boy, seriously, even sadly, "I'm going away, far, faraway."
The dog listened, never moving ear nor tail.
"And, Eily, you _cannot_ come with me, dear, dear doggie."
Eily threw herself at his feet, or rather fell; she looked lost ingrief.
He patted her kindly.
This only made matters worse. She thought he was relenting, that hiswords had been only spoken in fun. She jumped up, sprang on hisshoulder, licked his ear, then went gambolling round and round him, andso made her way to the gate.
It was very apparent, however, that all these antics were assumed, therewas no joy at the dog's heart. She was but trying to overcome hermaster's scruples to take her along with him.
Harry followed her to the gate.
"It must not be, Eily," he said again; "I'm going where you cannot come.But I will come back, remember that."
His hand was on her head, and he was gazing earnestly down at her.
"Yes, I'll come back in a few months, and you will meet me, oh! sojoyfully. Then we'll roam and rove and run in the beautiful forest oncemore, and fish by the river, and shoot on the moorland and hill.Goodbye, Eily. Be good, and watch. Good-bye, goodbye."
A great tear fell on Eily's mane as he bent down and kissed her brow.
Eily stood there by the gate in the starlight, watching the darkretreating figure of her beloved young master, until a distant cornerhid him from view, and she could see him no more.
Then she threw herself down on the snow; and, reader, if you could haveheard the big, sobbing sigh she gave, you would believe with me, thatthe mind of a dog is sometimes almost human, and their griefs andsorrows very real.
Hastily brushing the tears from his eyes, Harry made the best of his wayalong the road, not daring to look behind him, lest his feelings shouldovercome him.
He kept repeating to himself the words he had heard his uncle make useof the evening before. This kept his courage up. When he had goneabout a mile he left the main road and turned into a field. A littlewinding church-path soon brought him to a wooded hollow, where there wasa very tiny cottage and garden.
He opened the gate and entered.
He went straight to the right-hand window, and, wetting his forefinger,rubbed it up and down on the pane.
The noise it made was enough to awaken some one inside, for presentlythere was a cough, and a voice said--
"Who's there?"
"It is I, Andrew: rise, I want to speak to you."
"Man! is it you, Harry? I'll be out in a jiffy."
And sure enough a light was struck and a candle lit. Harry could seepoor faithful Andrew hurrying on his clothes, and in two minutes more hehad opened the door and admitted his young friend.
"Man! Harry," he said, "you scared me. You are early on the road.Have ye traps set in the forest? D'ye want me to go wi' ye?"
"No such luck, Andrew," replied the boy. "I've no traps set. I won'tsee the forest for many a long day again."
"Haud your tongue, man!" cried Andrew, looking very serious andpretending to be angry. "Haud your tongue. Are ye takin' leave o' yourreason? What have ye in that bag? Why are ye no dressed in the kilt,but in your Sunday braws?"
Then Harry told him all--told him of the determination he had for many aday to go to sea, and of the conversation he had overheard on theprevious evening.
Andrew used all the arguments he could think of or muster to dissuadehim from his purpose, and enlarged upon the many dangers to beencountered on the stormy main, as he called it, but all to no purpose.
"Mind ye," said Andrew, "I've been to sea myself, and know somethingabout it."
Honest, innocent Andrew, all the experience he had of the stormy mainwas what he had gained in a six hours' voyage betwixt Granton andAberdeen.
But when Andrew found that nothing which he could adduce made theslightest impression on his young friend, he pulled out his snuff-horn,took two enormously large pinches, and sat down in silence to look atHarry.
The boy pulled out a letter from his breast-pocket.
"This is for my dear mother," he said. "Give it to her to-day. Tellher how sorry I was to go away. Tell her--tell her--."
Here the boy fairly broke down, and sobbed as if his heart would break.
My hero crying? Yes, I do not feel shame for him either. The soldieror sailor, ere journeying far away to foreign lands, is none the lessbrave if he does pause on the brow of the hill, and, looking back to hislittle cottage in the glen, drop a tear.
Do you remember the words of the beautiful song--
"Mid pleasures and palaces tho' we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met elsewhere.
"An exile from home, splendour dazzles in vain, Oh! give me my lowly thatched cottage again! The birds singing gaily that came at my call, And give me the peace of mind dearer than all?"
Andrew, when he saw Harry crying, felt very much inclined to join him.There was a big lump in his throat that he could hardly gulp down. Butthen Andrew was a bit simple.
Harry jumped up presently and took two or three strides up and down thefloor of the little room, and so mastered his grief.
"It won't be for such a very long time, you know, Andrew," he said.
"No," said Andrew, brightening up. "And I'll look after your garden,Harry."
"Thank you, Andrew, and the turning lathe and the tools?"
"I'll see to them. You'll find them all as bright as new pins on yourreturn."
"And my pets, Andrew?"
"Yes."
"Well, look after those too. Sell them all as soon as you can--rats,mice, guinea-pigs, and pigeons, and all."
"Yes."
"And, Andrew, keep the money you get for them to buy snuff."
"Good-bye, Andrew."
"Good-bye. Mind you take care of yourself."
"I'll do that for my mother's sake."
Andrew pressed Harry's soft hand between his two horny palms for just amoment.
"God bless you, Harry!" he muttered.
He could not trust himself to say more, his heart was too full.
Then away went Harry, grasping his stick in his hand and trudging onmanfully over the hills, with his face to the east.
By and by the sun rose, and with it rose Harry's spirits. He thought nomore of the past. That was gone. He felt a man now; he felt he had afuture before him,
and on this alone he permitted his thoughts to rest.
Now I do not mean to vindicate that which my hero has done--quite thereverse. Obedience to the wishes of his parents is a boy's first duty.
Still, I cannot help thinking that my young hero had a bold heart in hisbreast.
See him now, with the sun glinting down on his ruddy face, on which is asmile, and on his stalwart figure; he is more like a boy of fifteen thana child under twelve. How firm his tread on the crisp and dazzlingsnow, how square his shoulders, how springy and lithe his gait andmovement! No, I'm not ashamed of my hero. Hear him. He is singing--
"There is many a man of the Cameron clan That has followed his chief to the field, And sworn to support him or die by his side, For a Cameron