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Bonnie Prince Fetlar: The Story of a Pony and His Friends

<h2>CHAPTER V A COWARD STANDS ALONE</h2> Lammie's leg was soon bound up, and Mr. Devering said to Dallas, "Do you know that verse in the Bible—'The sheep follow him for they know his voice, and a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him, for they know not the voice of strangers'?" "Yes, Captain, Margie has read it to me." "Well, we're going to start now, so you please stand back a bit. Lammie is eyeing you as if he thought you were another wolf—but why are you hanging your young head?" "I'm a coward," said the boy brokenly. "In what way?" "I ran into the house when I saw the wolf." "Were you afraid?" "I was, sir." "That the wolf would attack you?" "Yes." "Suppose he had attacked me, would you have come out to help me?" "I don't know, sir, but I hope so." "You're not sure." "No, sir." "And we're pals," said Mr. Devering. "I could[Pg 53] have staked my worldly all on your standing by me—one can never tell." He looked thoughtfully down at the grass, and the poor lamb standing on three legs stared patiently up at him. Mr. Devering had forgotten him for the minute. The boy's wound was of more importance than the lamb's. "What kind of wolves have you read about?" he asked presently. "Fierce wild wolves like the Russian ones who pursued the sledge, and the servant threw himself out to save his master." Mr. Devering said nothing. He just stared and Dallas began to howl just like a human wolf, "Oh! I feel yellow—I should have stood by you," then he flung himself on the grass and began to kick and bite. This was temper—poor lad! he had been so proud of himself with his boasting about what he would do if a wild animal appeared, and when it did come he had scuttled to the nearest shelter. Mr. Devering came and stood over him. The boy was just raging now, and snapping out words. "I didn't think I'd run. I thought I'd make a stand. I didn't know I was a quitter." "Did you ever see a wild animal before outside a Zoo?" Mr. Devering bawled at him, for the boy was making so much noise that an ordinary voice would not have pierced his ears. "No, I never did—I wasn't on to him. I'm not acquainted with wolves and bears—I hate this[Pg 54] place. I want to go back to my father and Margie and John." Mr. Devering spoke to me in a low voice as I stood gazing regretfully at my undignified young master. "A good time for a sermon, Prince Fetlar, but it will keep—— Come on Lammie," and turning to the suffering animal he walked slowly toward the trail, the lamb limping after him. Of course I stayed by our angry young lad, and presently getting over his temper, he lifted his swollen face. He was alone with me, and the wolf might still be lurking in the spruces. So he thought, and didn't he jump up and go stumbling over the grass, slipping, falling, getting up again, dashing the tears from his eyes, and muttering to himself. But soon a very cheerful sound from far ahead floated back to him. Ah! that was one of the songs we used to hear in our own dear country when our boys went marching away to war. <div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <div>"Put all your troubles in your old kit bag,</div> <div>And smile, smile, smile!"</div> </div></div> </div> Certain tones in the man's hearty voice reminded me of the boy's sweet notes, and wasn't there a queer suggestion of each other when I stood near them? We Shetland ponies as I have said before are very close to human beings for our ancestors were literally brought up with the children in the crofters' huts, and my mother has often told me that her mother had many a lick at the family platter and many a time her soft[Pg 55] muzzle was buried in the children's necks.... I had it—the man was some relation to the boy. That explained the man's patient interest in him, and the fascination that the man had for the boy. Blood is thicker than water every time. I was very pleased with myself. Now I would have to find out the exact relationship. That would be something to amuse me in these solitudes, and I pressed closer to my young master so that he might steady himself by laying a hand on my neck. "Gee whiz!" he exclaimed with a sob, "if Captain isn't carrying that beast." Sure enough, the good shepherd singing so easily in front of us, and stepping so firmly over the trail in his big leather hunting boots, had both hands up to his shoulders. Lammie-noo lay across his back like a pillow, his head wig-wagging, his manner content. He wasn't afraid. I suspected that he had been carried that way before. "Captain," cried Dallas anxiously as he ran after him, "I'm here." Mr. Devering stopped singing. "All right," he called, "I'm glad to hear you." "You can't see me," said the boy, very anxious to make conversation, "but I'm here all the same." "Good for you, Sub, we'll have a fine appetite for our supper." "You don't dine in the evening then," said Dallas agreeably. "No, sir—country hours—dine at twelve p.m.[Pg 56] No afternoon tea except on occasions. Supper at six." "I like those hours for the country," said Dallas. As he spoke a last sob broke his voice. "Captain," he called out, "will you tell your kids that I ran from the wolf?" "Certainly not," said Mr. Devering in tones of surprise. "Aren't we pals?" Dallas winced terribly at this. "I'm going to tell them myself," he said; "I've got to rub it in or maybe I'll do it again. My father hates cowards. He'd kill me if he thought I'd grow up to be a white-heart." "I'd scarcely go as far as that," said Mr. Devering with his jolly laugh. "You take things hard, boy." "Was that wolf a dangerous beast?" asked Dallas sharply. "Not at all—he'd have run like a deer if he'd scented us. The wind was off the lake." "But I didn't know that," cried the boy. Mr. Devering said nothing. He just stalked on with the lamb. Young Dallas' shoulders drooped sadly. "If he had been a wild, wild wolf," he said at last, "he might have attacked you, and there was I safe in the house." Mr. Devering stopped in his tracks, slid the lamb to a bed of moss, and said: "Let's rest a bit." I knew he had paused to have a chat with the boy and ease his aching young heart. He was certainly a man who remembered that he had been a[Pg 57] boy himself, and that the sorrows of youth are as painful as they are brief. When they were seated quietly side by side on a log, while Lammie-noo reached out for some stray sickly blades of grass that were just begging him to eat them and put them out of their misery, Mr. Devering said quite decidedly: "My lad, I know your ancestry. If any real danger should threaten me, you would rush to my rescue." Such a wave of relief swept over Dallas' face. "How do you know? Oh, how do you know?" he cried sharply. "Because the Duffs and the Deverings have never bred a coward." "The Duffs and the Deverings," repeated the boy slowly. "My father is a Duff, but was my mother a Devering?" The big man bit his lip. "There! I have let that family cat out of the bag. That splendid man your Dad did not wish you to know till later, but I who hate mysteries about family affairs, am glad pussy jumped out." "But my mother's name was not Devering," said Dallas. "Yes it was, my boy. She was adopted in early life by our aunt Mrs. Beverly Ronald, who gave her her own name." "And what relation are you to me?" asked Dallas springing to his feet. "I am your uncle." "My mother's brother." "Her only brother." [Pg 58] "And I thought I had no relatives." The boy was in an ecstasy. He stood with eyes fixed on his new relative, his face going from red to white like a girl's. Then in a trice he had his arms round the neck of this good uncle, and was hugging him warmly. "I love you!... I love you!" he cried. "And I love you, my boy," said the man simply. "I feel weak like that lamb," said Dallas, and his arms slipped down from the man's shoulders and he re-seated himself on the log close to his side. "I want something strong to hold on to." Mr. Devering threw an impatient glance in the direction of Boston, and I knew that he was blessing the splendid, but peculiar man, the boy's father. Aloud he said: "Let us change the subject. I want to tell you a story about General Wolfe." The boy was gazing deep into the wood interior, his eyes vacant and dreamy. With an effort he turned around, and said softly, "Uncle—that is even better than Captain. Uncle—I never had one before." "Well, you'll never be without one now," remarked Mr. Devering, then he said again quite patiently, "Wolfe, the Conqueror of Quebec." "The Conqueror of Quebec," repeated young Dallas like a parrot. "This story is little known, but it is true," said Mr. Devering. "Now pull yourself together, boy,—imagine a dinner table, seated at it William Pitt, Lord Temple and General Wolfe. The next [Pg 59]morning Wolfe was to sail from England for Canada. Pitt's eyes were on him. How was this young general going to acquit himself? Suddenly to his dismay, Wolfe got up, began to strut about the room, drew his sword, struck the table with it, and boasted about what this good sword was to do in Canada. "The two ministers were aghast, and when Wolfe's carriage was announced and he left the room, Pitt threw up his hands and said, 'To think that the fate of my country is in such hands!'" My young master was still in his beautiful dream cloud about this nice man being his uncle, but he came out of it long enough to say quite calmly, and with no bitterness now, "Wolfe was like me—he boasted." "Don't you wish to know why he acted so strangely?" "Yes, Uncle." "He was timid and nervous, and very often he acted in a way contrary to his real nature." "You're trying to smooth things over for me," said Dallas sweetly, "but you do it because I'm your nephew. You can't fool me.... Please tell me another story about Wolfe. He is one of my heroes." Mr. Devering was shaking with inward laughter. However he subdued it, for boys don't like to be laughed at, and went on: "The Duke of Newcastle told George III. that Pitt's new General Wolfe was a mad fool, and the old King said, 'If[Pg 60] he is mad, I hope he will bite some of my generals.'" Dallas smiled absently, then he said, "We're sort of mixed up when we're young, aren't we?" "Tadpoles, my boy, tadpoles. You don't know how you'll turn out. But young people mature. Think of Wolfe banging the dining-table with his sword, then turning into the sensitive young man of such deep feeling who recited to his officers 'The paths of glory lead but to the grave.'" "And then," cried Dallas suddenly waking up, "Wolfe was the brave officer leading the attack on the enemy, wrapping his handkerchief around his wounded wrist and faithful to his motto, 'While a man is able to do his duty and to stand and hold his arms it is infamous to retire'—— What is infamous, my Uncle?" "Odious, detestable—— Well, Wolfe was almost too brave, for his bright uniform made him a target for the sharpshooters who finally got him." "I know the rest," said Dallas excitedly, "I remember it in my Canadian history. 'Support me,' cried Wolfe, 'my brave soldiers must not see me fall.' Then they laid him on the grass in a hollow, but he said, 'I'm done for.' Those supporting him thought he was unconscious, but when they cried out, 'They run! they run!' Wolfe asked, 'Who run?' "'The enemy, the enemy,' said his soldiers, 'they give way everywhere.' Then he turned on his side, murmured, 'God be praised! I die happy,'[Pg 61] and expired—— Ah! sir, Wolfe stuck to his guns. I did not." Mr. Devering just roared with laughter. "You can't forget that, Sub. Well remember too that you're at the period of beating the dining-table. Come on, I want to get home," and shouldering Lammie he began to tramp along the trail whistling, <div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <div>"When I was young, I went astray,</div> <div class="i1">Went astray, went astray."</div> </div></div> </div> <hr /> [Pg 62] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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