Kenneth McAlpine Part 17

"Nay, they are not planted. Green in summer and purple and crimson in autumn, there they are the same, and ever will remain."

There was a pause. Then Kenneth spoke once again.

"Did you ever see Miss Gale since?"

"Only once," replied Archie, "and Miss Redmond--Jessie--she has grown tall, and oh! Kenneth, so beautiful, but still so child-like and graceful."

"I can easily believe that, boy. And did she--"

"Yes, dear lad," said Archie. "She did ask all about you, so kindly.

And I gave her your last letter to read. And--"

"And she read it, Archie? Tell me, did she read it?"

"Yes, she read it over and over again."

"Now, I'll tell you my own adventures."

"Begin at the beginning, won't you? The very beginning, from the day you and I parted."

"I will."

But what Kenneth said deserves a chapter to its own account.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

KENNETH AND ARCHIE.

"Adieu, adieu; my native land Fades o'er the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew.

Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land, good-night."

Byron.

Scene: Kenneth and Archie still seated in the verandah of the Spaniard's cottage. The light from the cas.e.m.e.nt window is streaming outwards through the creepers and climbing plants all around them; the beautiful bell-like flowers, down-drooping, touch their very faces. But all the colour up there in the verandah's roof does not belong to these flowers.

No, for birds are sheltering their bright wings from the night dews; that rich orange spot in the corner is a bird, so is that patch of crimson and steel, and yonder one of snow-white and blue. If you looked steadily for a moment at them, you could see round heads turned downwards and wondering beads of eyes. The birds are considering whether or not all is safe, or whether they had better fly away out into the night and the darkness.

Kenneth is waiting for the Senor to come. There is hardly a sound except a gentle sighing of wind among the trees, now and then the shriek of a night bird, the constant chirp of cicada, or rap, rap, rap, of green lizard as he beats to death some unhappy moth he has captured.

"Now, Senor, come and sit you down. Light your great pipe. That is right. Thanks, yes, both Archie and I will have a little palm-leaf cigarette. Coffee? Oh! delightful! Archie: old man, there isn't any one in all the wide world ever made coffee half so well as the Senor Gasco. Flattery, Senor? No, not a bit of it. The truth cannot be flattery."

"The coffee," said Archie, "is delicious."

"Heigho!" sighed Kenneth. "I am so happy to-night, dear Archie. I believe it will really do me good to tell you of some of the troubles I have come through; it will dilute my joy.

"I don't know, Archie, old man, how ever I became a sailor. I'm not quite sure, mind you, that I am altogether a sailor yet at heart, though I dearly love the sea, and a roving life is _the_ life for a man of my temperament. Senor is smiling; he will never admit I am a man. But I have come through _so_ much, and the years I have spent since I left the dear old glen have been indeed eventful, and seem a long, long time.

"But, Archie, lad, when I began my wanderings through the world, I can tell you my ambition was very great indeed. I determined, you know, to make my fortune, and I determined to make it in a very short time. The details of the process of fortune-manufacture, however, didn't present themselves to me, all at once anyhow. I turned my back on Glen Alva, and so full was my heart that I put at least ten miles behind me before I sat down to rest. I got inside a wood at last, and seated myself beneath a tree, and counted my money, three shillings and fivepence-halfpenny! Well, many a man has begun the world on less.

"But this money couldn't last long. What then should I do? I'll tell you what I did do. I fell sound asleep, and the sun was setting when I awoke, and flooding all the wood with mellow light.

"There was a blackbird came and perched half-way up a neighbouring spruce tree and began fluting.

"'Oh!' I said half aloud, 'two of us can flute.'

"So the blackbird and I piped away there till it got nearly dark. But I felt hungry now, and music is not very filling, Archie. So I put up my flute and started to my feet; I felt stiff now, but it soon wore off.

"I went on and on and on, getting hungrier every minute, but there was no sign of village or house. I drank some water from a rill that came tumbling down through a bank of ferns, and felt better.

"I was beginning to wonder where I should sleep, when the sound of merry laughing voices fell upon my ear. The party, whoever it was, came rapidly on towards me from among the trees.

"'Hullo, lad!' said one; 'are ye comin' to the dance?'

"'Dance!' I cried; 'why, my feet are all one bag of blisters, and I'm faint with hunger. Dance, indeed!'

"'It's a puir beggar laddie,' said a girl, whose face I could hardly see in the uncertain light.

"'Beggar!' I exclaimed. 'Who d'ye call a beggar? I've a whole pocketful of money, only I've lost the road.'

"'Come along, then,' they all cried. 'Come along with us.'

"And off we all went singing. We struck off the road down across the fields, and soon I heard the music of a fiddle and saw bright lights. A young man came out of a farmhouse to welcome us. He told us dolefully that only one fiddler had come, and plaintively asked what could be done.

"'I've a flute,' I cried.

"'Hurrah!' they answered. 'Come in, my boy.'

"'The laddie maun eat first,' said the girl who had called me a beggar.

"I blessed her with all my heart, though not in words.

"What a supper they gave me! And didn't I eat just! I could play now, and we spent such a joyful night, and dawn was breaking and the blackbirds up and fluting again long before the merry party broke up.

"I got a bed and slept far into the day; then, after a good dinner from these kind-hearted farm folks, I began my journey in search of fortune once more.

"By evening I saw great grey clouds lying in the hollows before me. It was smoke. I was nearing Glasgow, and in two hours more I was walking along the Broomielaw.

"I had never seen so many people before in my life, but hardly anybody looked at the shepherd lad in Highland garb. I determined they should, though. I put my flute together, and standing near the bridge, commenced to play 'The Flowers of the Forest.'

"Was it the singular plaintiveness of this beautiful air, I wonder, or was it that my thoughts were away back again in the glen I had left, and with those I loved so dearly? I do not know, but I seemed to become oblivious to everything. My very soul was breathed into the music; I was speaking and appealing to the crowd through the instrument.

"The crowd! Yes, there was a crowd. I became aware of that as soon as I had finished, and money, piece after piece, was forced into my hand.

I took the money. I felt ashamed of it next moment, but to have gone off then would have seemed ungrateful. I played still another air.

Again I paused.

"'No more money,' I cried aloud as I fled away.

"They must have thought the Highland boy was mad.