Born to Wander: A Boy's Book of Nomadic Adventures. Stables Gordon
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and go and fight for their king and country, and come back with hats and plumes on their heads, stars on their manly breasts, spurs on their heels, and great swords jangling at their sides. The girls were to grow up good and kind and truthful, and some were to marry princes, who would come riding for them on white palfreys with scarlet trappings and manes and tails that touched the ground. Some were to marry great warriors, and others would have to be content to wed with honest John Ploughman, or perhaps to marry the miller.
Effie was the house-provider, and often wanted to buy eggs and butter and bread and milk, and she was very much, astonished at the kindness of all these cottagers, for none of them could be prevailed upon to accept any money.
“Bless the dear wee innocent,” a woman would say, “so far away from its mammie. I won’t have this money.”
“Isn’t she wise-looking?” another would add.
“Just like a wee witchie.”
Thus on and on and on went these amateur gipsies for a whole week, and I do not know really which enjoyed this strange wandering tour the most, Leonard, Effie, Ossian, or Don.
But it was not all humble folks they came across, though nearly all; for the fact is they avoided big houses. Leonard said he wanted to mingle with the people. And so they did; but once, and once only, two ladies came up to them in a wood just as they were harnessing up, and about to start on the afternoon journey.
Effie had made all the outside front of the caravan quite gay with wild flowers, and a great garland of primroses, ivy, and wild hyacinths, and was tying it round Don’s neck, when the ladies alighted from their horses, and came to speak to her.
“You are not an ordinary gipsy child, I know,” said one. Effie only opened her blue eyes wider, and looked at the lady, who was young and most pleasant to behold.
But Leonard lifted his hat, and replied boldly, —
“We are wanderers, lady.”
“How romantic! Is this little Red Riding-Hood? How beautiful she is! How my father would like to see her! Could you ride on my horse, dear, and come to the Hall with me?”
“No, thank you,” said Effie. “I would not ride without a habit.”
“Quite right, dear,” said the other lady, laughing.
“But,” said Effie, afraid she had spoken unkindly, “if we come to the Hall, we must all come.”
“Delightful! And my brother shall paint you. Is this the wolf?”
“That is Ossian, my father’s deerhound.”
“What a noble fellow! Where does your father live, and what are your names?”
Leonard lifted his hat again. “Pardon me, lady,” he said, “for replying instead of my sister. Father lives in London, at present. My name is Incognitus, and my sister’s name Incognita. My sister has already introduced you to the dog, permit me to introduce you to the donkey. His name is Don.”
The young ladies pouted, and looked half-inclined to be cross, but finally laughed such a pleasant, merry, ringing laugh, that Don pricked up his ears, and joined in with such a terrible lion-like roar, that the very hills rang for a mile around. It was not often that Don did give way to a fit of merriment, but when he did nobody else was able to get in a word until the strength of his lungs was quite exhausted.
He stopped presently, and helped himself to a fresh green thistle that was growing handy.
Meanwhile Ossian jumped up and kissed one of the ladies, as much as to say, —
“Don’t be afraid, Don often makes that row. He is only an ass, you know, but there isn’t a bit of harm in the whole of his body.”
“Come on then, my dears. Why, Lily, this is quite an adventure. What a providence it was that we rode in this direction! I would not have missed such an adventure for anything I can think of.”
Book One – Chapter Six
In a Smuggler’s Cave
“But now we go,
See, see we go,
To the deepest caves below.”
Scene: The interior of a cave on a lonely hillside; a huge fire of wood and peat is burning in a kind of recess hewn from the solid rock. A large cauldron is boiling over it, and the smoke and flames are roaring up the chimney. Wild-looking men, unkempt and unshorn, are eating and drinking on stone benches around the cave. There is a big oil lamp hanging from the roof, and that and the firelight shed a dim uncertain light throughout the cave.
“And so,” said one of the men, who appeared to be captain of this gang of smugglers, “Captain Bland and his fellows have promised to be here to-night.”
“That is what he told me,” said another. “The lugger has been dodging off and on the coast for days, and there is a sloop all ready down at the steps near St. Abb’s waiting to take the stuff off.”
“Well,” said the first speaker, “it is long past midnight, and as dark as pitch. No bothering moon to-night to interfere with the work. We should turn a pretty penny by this cargo. Ha! ha!” he laughed, “you Scotchmen didn’t know how to work the oracle on this hillside till we Saxons crossed the border and showed you. Scotchmen are – ”
Five men sprang to their feet in a moment, and dirks were flashing in the lamplight.
“Hold, you scoundrels, hold!” cried a tall and handsome man in the garb of a sailor, rushing into the cave, and throwing himself, sword in hand, between the belligerents.
“What!” he continued, “quarrelling when we should be busy at work. I came in good time, it seems.”
The Scotchmen sheathed their dirks, but sulkily.
“Right, Captain Bland,” said Rob McLure, “only Long Bill there thought fit to insult us wi’ his Saxon brag. We had the cave afore him, and did weel in it, and we’re independent yet, and fit to clear the English bodies out o’ the country, tho’ we’re but five and they are two to one – ay, and give their bodies to the corbies to pick.”
“Bill,” said Captain Bland, “you began this unseemly squabble; it is for you to apologise.”
“I do so heartily,” said Bill; “I bear no grudge against the Scotch.”
“Nor I, nor I, nor I,” cried half-a-dozen voices. Then hands were shaken all round, and peace restored.
Bland pitched down his cap – long black ringlets floating over his shoulder as he did so – and sank into a seat, as if weary.
“Give me food and drink; the long walk has quite tired me. Your Scottish hills, McLure, are hard on Saxon legs. By the way,” he added, “two of my fellows are outside, and they’ve caught a couple of gipsy creatures; they may or may not be spies. Bring them in, the little ones may be cold and hungry.”
In a minute more Leonard and poor Effie stood trembling before the smuggler chief.
We left them about three days ago in a lovely wood, with the greenery of trees, the song of birds, sunshine, and flowers all around them. They had gone to the Hall, as the young ladies called their home, and had created quite a sensation.
There was such an air of romance about the whole affair that everybody at the great house was charmed with them. Leonard and Effie were the hero and heroine of that evening, at all events, while Ossian made himself quite at home on the hearthrug, very much to the disgust of a beautiful Persian cat, whose place he had coolly usurped.
The young ladies again cross-questioned the little wanderers, in the prettiest and most insinuating way possible, but succeeded in obtaining no further information. But Effie read their fortunes without having her hand crossed with either gold or silver. No prince on gaily-caparisoned palfrey was to come riding to the Hall to beg for the hand of either, nor soldiers with sword and spear and nodding plumes come riding their way. Effie disposed of both in quite a humdrum