The Wee Scotch Piper
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Sometimes poor Mrs. Robinson waited until very late for her husband to come home. When at last he arrived, he came penniless.
But now Jamie was buoyed up by the balmy weather. He felt a longing for the open road.
"Come away, wife," he pleaded. "'Tis no living for a man here."
But Mrs. Robinson only shook her head and reminded him of their large family and of the hardships of a wandering life. After all, they were comfortable here, when Jamie brought home the pennies.
They had a little corner on a bright meadow beside a brook. Besides, the people of Aberfoyle were kind. Mrs. Robinson tried to keep her four wee children clean and happy. But this task was not always easy. What would it be on the open road?
"No, Jamie," she said. "'Tis afraid I am to go traveling with the wee bairns." (Children are called bairns in Scotland.)
But Jamie insisted and promised that she would not regret it. He promised that he would make money and provide for them better than before.
And so, one day the village of Aberfoyle said good-bye to Piper Robinson. The little caravan then moved on to what they hoped would be a better life.
They made a queer picture as they trudged along. There was Jamie pulling the cart, with Mrs. Robinson beside him. Her entire kitchen was strung upon her back – teakettle, sauce pan, and soup ladle.
Then came the oldest child, followed by the scrawny dog. Behind him dragged a freckled boy of five years. In the handcart, on top of the sticks and the tent, sat the two babies. One of them was three and the other barely two years old.
For some time Jamie Robinson was happy. In each little village where he played, he made enough to feed his family. He tried to please his wife and brought home all the money that was thrown him.
But the weeks wore on, and the family moved farther and farther from the big cities. Then it seemed that there became less and less money for pipers.
One night Jamie came back to his little brood with empty pockets. The rain had been falling all day. The family of Jamie Robinson had been huddled together in their tent like lost sheep. When Jamie entered the tent, the baby was crying. Jamie knew she was hungry.
While Sandy MacGregor traveled, he usually sang or whistled. Sandy was always happy. He was getting old, and his stride was not what it had been. Still he gloried in his happy-go-lucky life.
Since leaving Aberfoyle, Sandy had thought often of the little boy in whose charge he had left the baby lamb. Old Sandy chuckled to himself when he thought about his return and Ian's joy upon receiving the bagpipes.
"If I could only stay and teach the laddie to play!" mused the old piper.
Sandy was a good piper and had once served in the army. Jamie Robinson had only picked up a few tunes. Ian had recognized Sandy's clever playing at once on the day he had first come to Aberfoyle.
Now, wet from the showers and hungry, Sandy stopped in a town. Taking out his pipes, he began to play. It was the same town where Jamie Robinson had played that night and the night before. The people were poor.
The rain had been falling in steady showers, so that few persons were about the streets. Sandy puffed on his pipes, and the sweet melody echoed through the village and beyond to the hills. But not a soul came to pay the piper.
"Ach, well," sighed Sandy. He wiped the dripping water from his brow and put back the pipes. He covered them carefully with his plaid. Then pulling his cart, the old man moved on through the wet streets of the village. Soon he was on the open road.
His experienced eyes fell upon a camping spot. He decided to rest the night there. He neared the little clump of trees by the side of the road. Then he saw that he was not the only traveler who had chosen this spot. Here was the tent of Jamie Robinson.
As Sandy drew closer, he heard a baby crying. Sandy called out, and Jamie put his face out of his tent. A sullen, angry face it was.
"And what is it you want?" he bellowed.
Sandy walked up to the man and smiled.
"Ach, don't be angry," he said. "I'll not be harming you. I'm an old piper and would rest the night here beside you, if you have no objection."
Jamie looked at the cart and again at Sandy's happy red face.
Then, softening his tone, he said, "Then welcome. And have you piped to yon village?"
"Ay," answered Sandy, "but they have not cared for my music!"
He laughed as he said this, and started to pitch his tent.
Jamie came out and helped him. It was not long before he had told Sandy all of his troubles. Sandy's brows wrinkled. A sadness came over his face as he listened to Jamie's tale of woe.
The family had been stranded here for three days. The rain had kept them from moving. Then the wee baby was ill, and the others were hungry and cold. Not a penny had been made in the town. Jamie had played several times each day. He had even trudged along to the next town with no better results.
Sandy was shocked. The thought of hungry children tormented him. Telling Jamie that he wished to try his luck in the town once more, he hastened thither, his pipes under his arm.
Sandy had never been a rich man. He always had enough to buy his meals, and that was all. A piper cannot make a great deal. Sandy's music usually brought him ample money for his needs. But he was a generous soul and gave away half of what he earned.
To-night he had in his pocket just enough to buy his dinner. Into the town he went. It was not long before he returned to the suffering family with bread and milk. To Mrs. Robinson, Sandy appeared as a good fairy that night.
The next day broke fair. Early Sandy was in the market square of the town. He played the finest tunes he knew, strutting up and down.
The villagers liked his music, and the children followed him. They would have liked to shower Sandy with gold, for the joy that their country's melodies brought them. But their purses were thin. They could only smile sadly and shake their heads at the puffing old man.
There was nothing for the Robinsons to do but to move on. It was a difficult task for Mrs. Robinson. But with Sandy's help, she managed to pilot her little tribe along the muddy road to the next village.
For many days Sandy and the Robinsons traveled together. Sandy piped and gave them all he made, which was little enough. Often he himself would go hungry to bed.
It grew so bad that poor Sandy began to wonder what would happen to them. Not for worlds would he have left them. Never did such a thought enter his mind.
He worried more over the sick baby than did Jamie Robinson. Jamie was, in fact, to Sandy, another child. Sandy felt as though he had to protect the irresponsible piper along with his family.
These were terrible days for Sandy. He sold nearly everything he had to provide for the Robinsons and keep them from going hungry.
One day the baby became desperately ill. It needed a doctor. Sandy rushed to the nearest village. The doctor was brought and pronounced the baby in a serious condition. He said it must be given fresh milk and nourishing food. But to provide these things was too difficult for the little family.
One thought had been at the back of Sandy's mind all along. But he had not allowed himself to consider it seriously until now. This crisis, however, forced him to carry out a plan.
The bagpipes he had promised Ian were the only valuable possession in his little cart. They would bring enough money to save the baby's life.
Sandy pulled them out. He polished the silver and rubbed the chanter carefully to remove the dust. Meanwhile, his thoughts flew to Ian. In his heart he was used to calling Ian "the wee Scotch piper," for he hoped to see the boy realize his dream some day.
Now the pipes would have to go. He would have to return to the lad empty-handed and with his promise broken. Still, it was the only thing he could do. So poor Sandy sold the pipes.
Sandy returned from the village, with his pockets bulging. He seemed to see Ian in front of him, the wee lamb in his arms. Ian seemed to be looking expectantly and questioningly at his old friend.
And Sandy heard himself saying, "No, laddie. Sandy has disappointed you and has not brought you the pipes!"
CHAPTER IX
IAN TRIES AGAIN
Ian was once more in search of Betty. The story of King Bruce echoed in his ears and spurred him on. Roy, too, seemed to be inspired with new hope. He sniffed and ran, and ran and sniffed. Every once in a while, he would let out short, sharp barks.
"Do not weary yourself, lad," said Ian. "We have long to go this day, and we'll not give up."
With these words the boy began to whistle. A happiness seemed to come suddenly to him as though he already had Betty safe in his arms.
For many hours the boy and dog climbed and walked. At last they found themselves in a wild, rugged portion of the country, where Ian had never before been. Rocks were all about him. He descended into giant caverns.
He called, "Betty!" and received only an echo for reply. He went farther until it was so late that he could not think of returning home. He would surely lose his way in the darkness, if he attempted it. So he curled himself up between two massive rocks and, with Roy nestling close to his side, fell fast asleep.
At dawn, Ian was awakened by Roy. The dog was barking and making wild dashes in the direction of a large gulch near by.
He ran madly to the gulch, then dashed back again to Ian. His barks came in hysterical gasps.
Ian ran with Roy to the edge of the gulch. Looking down, the boy saw a terrible sight. Hanging on to a ragged ledge was a large mother sheep. It was one of his own father's, as he could see by the markings on the wool. The poor creature was bleating. A few feet above the ledge stood her baby lamb.
At each of Roy's barks, the mother sheep gave a little jump, and the ledge of rock quivered. Ian thought surely it would break and the sheep would be dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
"Down, down!" commanded Ian in the same voice as his father used to the dog.
Roy crouched and whined, but stopped his barking. Ian remembered that some of the mother sheep distrusted the dog. So it would be impossible for Roy to show himself now. What must be done must be done by Ian himself.
While the boy climbed down the precipitous rocks, the faithful dog, deprived of his rightful work, whined and howled. Had he not been trained to obey, he would never have stayed. But to a shepherd dog, a master's word is law. Roy watched his young friend as the boy made the perilous descent to rescue the terrified animal on the ledge.
The sheep was large, and its wool weighed heavily. But Ian grasped the creature firmly. With all his might, he pulled until he had it on the rock above. When the baby lamb saw its mother coming, it uttered loud, joyous bleatings.
Ian could only think that the sheep had been led astray by his father's new dog. He was worried for fear that there were others which had strayed beyond. He decided to see, and started off beyond the rock hill.
But when Roy began to drive the mother sheep along, she became very angry. She ran at him with her head lowered. Roy could not manage her. She refused to obey him and Ian.
The boy, who carried a crook like his father's, was forced to resort to the only means of bringing her to order. With a quick sweep of the crook, he caught the baby sheep. He lifted it in his arms.
"Now, you'll come away," he said to the mother, as he walked on. Snorting, the mother sheep was forced to follow.
On and on walked Ian and Roy. And now the hunt was not only for Betty, but for more of his father's herd. Ian thought he would find some that might have been led astray by the new dog.
At noon he sat down to eat his "piece," which he carried in his sporran. When he had finished, he started for a clear stream near by.
As he approached, he thought he saw one of the grayish rocks in the stream moving. He rubbed his eyes. Could it be a reflection from the water? No. It was moving slowly.
Ian approached faster. What was his amazement at finding the gray rock to be his own Betty! It was his Betty, thin and ragged, and stumbling along on her front knees, too weak to raise her feet. Poor little beast!
She was nearly dead. As Ian raised her up, he realized that he had found her just in time. The creature seemed to know the boy, for she nestled down in his arms as of yore. In spite of her suffering, she seemed perfectly happy, now that her Ian was found.
CHAPTER X
SPRING
Spring! Each day found an eager, watchful boy, a happy, sweet-faced sheep dog, and a large fleecy lamb standing on the Rob Roy Brig. They were awaiting in glad anticipation a visitor, who was expected and whose music would soon reach the happy ears of a future piper.
Ian Craig had never allowed his Betty to roam after that frightful episode. She had been kept in a little corral, which Ian built for her. When he came home from school, he took her with him to the brig. He fastened her to a massive rock, while he awaited the return of Sandy.
Betty was now almost as fat and big as the other sheep. She was a credit to the boy's good care. So proud of her was Ian that he often tied a lovely tartan ribbon about her neck. He combed her wool tenderly each day before he started off for the brig.
Day after day, the two waited. Meanwhile, Roy looked on with kindly eyes, although he did not understand it all. Of course, Betty was equally ignorant of why she was made to pose with a floppy bow around her neck, tied to an annoying rock. But she was content, for Ian stayed beside her.
Sometimes as Ian watched and waited, he thought he heard the bagpipes in the distance. And as he heard, his heart beat faster. The moment of bliss when he could claim his reward, seemed to be upon him.
Then he often looked at Betty, and a qualm seized him. How could he part with the lamb? He had been through trouble and sorrow for the little animal. He had lived many happy hours by her side. It was as though she had become his own. The thought of parting from her was like a stab. Then, too, Betty loved him.
At these times, the poor little boy would knit his brow and ponder upon the strangeness of life.
Then he thought of the pipers and the tale of Dunblane, where the stalwart lads marched and played. He thought of the glorious piper bands marching in the big towns. The thought made him brighten and jump from the brig and scan the country for a sign of Sandy.
But the days of budding blossoms and showers in Scotland wore on. Finally Betty's ribbon bow began to fade and Ian's patience to wear.
Little Elsie Campbell used at times to walk with the boy to the brig. Often he stopped on the walk and talked to her, as he cocked his head on one side.
"Do you not hear the din of pipes, Elsie?" he asked.
And the wee lassie shook her head and said, "Ach, no, lad. 'Tis daft you are with your pipes!"
But it was said kindly, for Elsie hoped and prayed that Sandy would return. You see, Ian had told her the story of Betty and how he waited for the promised pipes. It was, in fact, Elsie who had first tied the silken tartan ribbon about the lamb's neck.
It was a gray day which promised rain. Ian and Betty neared the brig together. Ian had just tied the creature to her accustomed rock and was lifting himself to the wall when he heard a sound. Pipes! Unmistakably pipes!
Still, he had been mistaken so often before that he dared not look. And Elsie was not there to-day. She would have told him. For in her ears the sound was not always droning as it had been in Ian's for many days.
He had not told his mother for fear of worrying her. But his head was often heavy, and he could not sleep with the sound of the bagpipes. Poor little Ian! If only Sandy would return!
On this dull, misty day as he swung his feet from the wall of the brig, Ian could not stop the sound. Nearer and nearer it came!
Then, "Bonny laddie, Highland laddie," chanted the pipes. Ian looked up and saw standing before him his Sandy!
Although he was as red and wrinkled and twinkling as before, there was a change. Sandy was very shabby. His coat was stained with the mud and rain of many hard days.
He stopped his playing and stood before the boy. A sad, longing look came into his eyes.
"Ian, lad," he said slowly, "'tis Sandy come back."
And Ian suddenly realized that it was all true and not one of his dreams. He jumped down from the wall and threw his arms about Sandy.
"Ach, Sandy," he cried. Then he stood back and pointed to the lamb. Evidently Sandy had not noticed it.
"And do you not see our beastie, Sandy? 'Tis the same you left with me, and well and fat she is."
Sandy turned and looked at Betty. But he did not talk as Ian had expected him to, nor did he compliment Ian on the lamb's well-being. He only stood fingering his pipes and slowly shaking his head.
As Ian stared in wonderment, the piper lifted his bagpipes from his shoulder and handed them to the boy.
"Your pipes are here, lad, and Sandy keeps his promise!" he said.
Without thinking Ian put out his arms to receive the instrument. His eyes, however, did not leave his friend's face.
"But, Sandy, these are your own pipes you're giving me!" he said, as if he could hardly believe it, after looking down at what Sandy had placed in his arms.
"Ay, lad," answered Sandy, "and now you can be a fine piper, and Sandy himself will teach you to play."
Then Sandy told Ian the sad story of Jamie Robinson. He explained how he had sold nearly all his worldly goods to help the little family and put them on their feet again. He told of how he had left them comfortably settled near a prosperous village. He had made Jamie promise to work and save for his little brood.
Sandy also told how he had come all the way to keep his promise to the boy. He said, too, that now, as in Aberfoyle there was no piper, he expected to stay here and take Jamie Robinson's place if Ian would lend him his pipes each day for awhile. And in return, he would teach the lad to play!
"For I'm not so young as I was, laddie, and the wandering life is over for me," he added.
When Ian heard these plans, he was beside himself with joy. He hugged first Sandy, then Roy, and then Betty. At last the piper became his old jolly self once more and laughed.
"Ay, lad, we'll share the pipes together, though they belong to you. But old Sandy will have to make a living, and he'll teach you all the tunes he knows!"
No happier boy than Ian Craig lived in Scotland that night. Standing before the door of the cottage, he puffed and blew on his pipes. There issued forth the sound of a thousand sheep all bleating at once but all in pain! Sandy listened from his tent on the hill opposite and chuckled to himself.
Roy was also in pain as he listened. His delicate ears were unused to this shrieking and squealing. He joined in the din with loud howls.
The baby within the house was in sympathy, too, and added her wails.
So Sandy's first evening as a resident in Aberfoyle was not a quiet one. He was forced to stop his ears.
Mrs. Craig was unable to stand the racket. So she pulled her puffing son into the house and packed him off to bed, to the great relief of all.
But Ian was a quick and hard-working pupil. It was not long before Roy quite approved of the sounds his master made on his pipes. He did not then feel it necessary to amend the melody.
Also the baby gurgled with glee. She puffed out her cheeks in imitation of Ian and laughed happily. And Betty, the lamb, too, seemed to know that all was well. The world was in tune with the wee Scotch piper who had, at last, realized his dreams.
"'Tis the close of the dayAt the foot of the ben,And the sound of his pipesEchoes back through the glen."CHAPTER XI
THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER
It was a cloudless day in the big Scotch city. The people seemed to feel that something unusual was about to happen. Everyone wore his best, and the city fairly shone with the reds and blues and greens of tartan kilts and bonnets.
Soldiers paraded the streets. Children hurried along by their parents' sides, anxious to arrive at the big grand stand in time. Numerous bystanders flanked the wide street.
All the people were breathless with excitement. Even the usual crowding traffic suspended its pushing and shrill tooting. For this was a great day in Scotland. Many celebrations occur at intervals in this land of excursions and picnics. But to-day was as the children would say, "extra special."
The huge grand stand was overcrowded with eager Scotchmen, with their wives and bairns. They all strained their eyes for a glimpse of the great "kiltie band," which was to march down the street.
Among those who watched, and perhaps the most eager of all, were a family of country folk. In bobbing black bonnet sat a calm-faced old lady. Beside her was a rugged old man. Both were in their best array. Both were longing for the sight they had come miles from their little farm to see.
The couple were none other than Alan Craig and his wife. The sight that their old eyes would soon see, as the happy tears dimmed their view, would be their son, their Ian. He was now a tall, manly piper in kilted uniform, marching and piping with the flower of Scotland's army.
By their side sat another. His kindly face shone with pride, and in his heart was a singing joy.
For Sandy MacGregor had taught this lad to play. It was the same old pipes of Sandy MacGregor that he still used. He would soon show those pipes to a cheering crowd as his fingers flew over the chanter. While he played, his arm would shelter the tartan bellows once sheltered by Sandy's own arm as the old piper had wandered over hill and through dale.
Sandy MacGregor had lived many years for this moment. As he craned his neck for a sight of the coming parade, he spoke to the little girl beside him.
"See, Betty, 'tis they coming now."
Betty, Ian's baby sister, was now a girl of the age Ian had been when first Sandy had met him.
Together, Betty and Sandy had dreamed and planned the day when together they would view their piper laddie on parade.
For Sandy had dwelt in the village of Aberfoyle these many years. While he had piped for his living, he had taught another piper, who was now to cover his old teacher with glory.
In the large audience there was still another, whose blue eyes danced with joy. Her hands were clasped together with excitement as she awaited the approach of her boyhood friend. It was little Elsie Campbell, now grown to womanhood. Elsie was among those who thrilled to see the "wee Scotch piper," as he marched along that day.
Who knows with what feelings of pride the lad looked up as he passed that grand stand? Who knows his feelings of love, on seeing those dear faces smiling and nodding at him?
And as he marched and played, he seemed to see before him a little schoolboy marching and playing. That boy was himself, trudging the streets of a wee village, followed by a bleating lamb!