The Wee Scotch Piper Part 8

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 p.r.o.nounced 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!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]