Courage, True Hearts: Sailing in Search of Fortune. Stables Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ off they went, Vike making all the rocks and braes resound with his barking.

      It was, indeed, a glorious and beautiful morning, and from their elevated situation they could see all the wild and romantic country on every side of them, for daylight was already broadening in the east. To the west the gray Atlantic ocean, the horizon buried in mist, away to the south woods and forests. Forests to the north also, while behind them hills on hills successive rose.

      But the eastern sky was already aglow with clouds of crimson fire and gold. What artist could paint, what poet describe, such glory?

      Then low towards a wood shines forth a brighter, more fiery gleam than all, and even at this distance the boys can see the branches, aye, and even the twigs, of the trees silhouetted against it.

      And that is the sun itself struggling up behind the radiant clouds.

      They stayed but little longer, for by this time breakfast would be ready, and Frank himself getting up.

      After this meal was discussed, as a light breeze, sufficient to ripple the stream, had sprung up, the young folks determined to go fishing.

      They took luncheon with them, and spent the whole forenoon on the banks of the bonnie wimpling burn.

      But so well engaged were they that they did not at first observe that the sky was becoming rapidly overcast, and that the wind had begun to wail and moan in the trees of the adjoining forest. It had turned terribly cold too.

      Duncan became fully alive to his danger now, however, especially when the tiny millet-seed snow began to fall.

      "Our nearest way is through the wood," said the boy. Duncan was always pioneer in every danger and in every pleasure.

      "And there is no time to lose," he added. "Florie, I wish you hadn't come. I suppose Conal and I will have to carry you."

      "I won't be carried," replied the stout-hearted little Scots maiden. "I daresay you think I'm a child."

      Fishing-tackle was by this time made up, and off they started.

      It was terribly dark and gloomy under the great black-foliaged pine-trees, but Duncan knew every foot of the way.

      They got through the forest, and out on to the wide moorland, just as the snow began to fall in earnest.

      This moor was for the most part covered with heather, with broom and with whins, but dotted over with Scottish pine-trees. These last had been planted, or rather sown, by the rooks, for the black corbies turn many a heathery upland in Scotland into waving woods or forests. They bear the cones away to pick the seeds therefrom on the quiet moors. Some of these seeds are dropped, and in a short time trees spring up.

      Duncan now took from his pocket a small compass, and studied it for a moment.

      "We sha'n't be able to see the length of a fishing-rod before us soon," he said. "Now, I propose steering due south till we strike the old turf dike2 that leads across the mountains. By following this downwards we will be guided straight to the pine-wood rookery behind our house."

      They commenced to struggle on now in earnest-I might almost say for dear life's sake-for wilder and wilder blew the blizzard, increasing in force every minute, and thicker fell the snow. But I was wrong in saying it fell, for it was carried horizontally along on the wings of the wind. Not a flake would lie on the hills or bare slopes, but every dingle and dell and gully, and every rock-side facing westward, was filled and blocked.

      Duncan held Flora firmly by the hand, for if she got out of sight in this choking drift, even for a few seconds, her fate would, in all probability, be that of sweet Lucy Gray-she might ne'er be seen alive again.

      Frank and Conal were arm-in-arm, their heads well down as they struggled on and on.

      "Let us keep well together, boys," cried Duncan, as he looked at his little compass once again. "Cheerily does it, as sailors say."

      Now and then they stopped for breath when they came to a clump of pines.

      Here the noise of the wind overhead was terrific. At its lightest it was precisely like the roar of a great waterfall. But ever and anon it would come on in furious squalls, that had in them all the force of a hurricane, which swept the tree-tops straight out to one side and bent their giant stems as if they had been but fishing-rods. At every gust such as this the flakes were broken into ice-dust, with a suffocating snow fog that, had they not buried their faces in their plaids, would have choked the party one and all.

      Many of these pines were carried away by the board, snapped near to the ground, and hurled earthwards with the force of the blast.

      Long before they reached the fence of turf, called in Scotland, as I have said, a dike, Flora was completely exhausted, and had to submit to be carried on Duncan's sturdy back.

      Frank was but little better off, but he would not give in.

      At last they reached the dike.

      "Heaven be praised!" cried Duncan. "And now we shall rest just a short time and then start on and down. Cheer up, lads, we will manage now."

      Flora descended from her brother's back, and he sat down on the turf, and took her on his knee.

      But where was Vike?

      Surely he had not deserted them!

      No, for a dog of this breed is faithful unto death.

      But now a strange kind of somnolence began to take possession of the boys.

      Duncan himself could not resist its power, far less his companions.

      "Let us be going, lads," he cried more than once, but he did not move.

      He seemed to be unable to lift a limb, and at last he heard the howling of the wind only like sunlit waves breaking on a far-off sandy beach.

      He nodded-his chin fell on his breast-he was dreaming.

      Ah! but it is from a sleep like this that men, overtaken in a snow-storm, never, never arise. They simply

      "Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

      Morn of toil, nor night of waking".

      In a few minutes, however, Duncan starts. The sound of a dog's voice falls on his ear. Ah! there is no bark in all broad Scotland so sonorous and so sincere as that of honest Vike.

      Wowff! Wowff! Wowff!!

      There is joy in it, too, for he has found the boys-ah! more than that, he has brought relief, and here are the sturdy kilted keeper and two farm hands, ready to help them safely home. The keeper has a flask, and all must taste-even Florie, who is hardly yet awake.

      How pleasant looked the fire in the fine old dining-hall when, after dressing, the boys came below.

      And Glenvoie himself was laughing now, and as he shook Frank's hand, he could not help saying:

      "Well, my lad, and how do you like a Highland snow-storm?"

      "Ah!" said Frank, laughing in turn, "a little of it goes a long way. I don't want any more Highland snow-storm, thank you-not for Frank!"

      The gale seemed to be increasing СКАЧАТЬ