LITMIR.BIZ

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of their dinners.

      The sun set now between two and three o'clock, and there were long forenights to favour the plot. Perhaps their hatred of the dog would not have driven them to such extreme measures, even although she had bitten Annie Anderson, had her master been a favourite, or even generally respected. But Alec knew well enough that the townsfolk were not likely to sympathize with Bruce on the ill-treatment of his cur.

      When the dinner and the blazing fire had filled him so full of comfort that he was once more ready to encounter the cold, Alec could stay in the house no longer.

      "Where are you going, Alec?" said his mother.

      "Into the garden, mamma."

      "What can you want in the garden—full of snow?"

      "It's just the snow I want, mamma. It won't keep."

      And, in another moment, he was under the clear blue night-heaven, with the keen frosty air blowing on his warm cheek, busy with a wheelbarrow and a spade, slicing and shovelling in the snow. He was building a hut of it, after the fashion of the Esquimaux hut, with a very thick circular wall, which began to lean towards its own centre as soon as it began to rise. This hut he had pitched at the foot of a flag-staff on the green-�lawn would be too grand a word for the hundred square feet in front of his mother's house, though the grass which lay beneath the snowy carpet was very green and lovely grass, smooth enough for any lawn. In summer Alec had quite revelled in its greenness and softness, as he lay on it reading the Arabian Nights and the Ettrick Shepherd's stories: now it was "white with the whiteness of what is dead;" for is not the snow just dead water? The flag-staff he had got George Macwha to erect for him, at a very small outlay; and he had himself fitted it with shrouds and a cross-yard, and signal halliards; for he had always a fancy for the sea, and boats, and rigging of all sorts. And he had a great red flag, too, which he used to hoist on special occasions-�on market-days and such like; and often besides when a good wind blew. And very grand it looked, as it floated in the tide of the wind.

      Often he paused in his work, and turned-�and oftener without raising himself he glanced towards the town; but no signal burned from the ridge of Curly's house, and he went on with his labour. When called in to tea, he gave a long wistful look townwards, but saw no sign. Out again he went, but no blue fire rejoiced him that night with the news that Juno was ranging the streets; and he was forced to go to bed at last, and take refuge from his disappointment in sleep.

      The next day he strictly questioned all his officers as to the manner in which they had fulfilled their duty, and found no just cause of complaint.

      "In future," he said to Curly, with the importance of one who had the affairs of boys and dogs upon his brain�-so that his style rose into English�-"in future, Curly, you may always know I am at home when you see the red flag flying from my flag-staff."

      "That's o' sma' service, General, i' the lang forenichts. A body canna see freely so far."

      "But Linkum wad see't fleein', lang or he wan to the yett (gate)."

      "It wad flee nae mair nor a deid deuke i' this weather. It wad be frozen as stiff's a buird."

      "Ye gowk! Do ye think fowk wash their flags afore they hing them oot, like sarks or sheets? Dinna ye be ower clever, Curly, my man."

      Whereupon Curly shut up.

      ******

      "What are you in such a state about, Alec?" asked his mother.

      "Nothing very particular, mamma," answered Alec, ashamed of his want of self-command.

      "You've looked out at the window twenty times in the last half-hour," she persisted.

      "Curly promised to burn a blue light, and I wanted to see if I could see it."

      Suspecting more, his mother was forced to be content with this answer.

      But that night was also passed without sight or sound. Juno kept safe in her barrel, little thinking of the machinations against her in the wide snow-covered country around. Alec finished the Esquimaux hut, and the snow falling all night, the hut looked the next morning as if it had been there all the winter. As it seemed likely that a long spell of white weather had set in, Alec resolved to extend his original plan, and carry a long snow passage, or covered vault, from the lattice-window of a small closet, almost on a level with the ground, to this retreat by the flag-staff. He was hard at work in the execution of this project, on the third night, or rather late afternoon: they called it forenight there.

CHAPTER XVII.

       Table of Contents

      "What can that be, mem, awa ower the toon there?" said Mary to her mistress, as in passing she peeped out of the window, the blind of which Alec had drawn up behind the curtain.

      "What is it, Mary?"

      "That's jist what I dinna ken, mem. It canna be the rory-bories, as Alec ca's them. It's ower blue.—It's oot.—It's in agin.—It's no canny.—And, preserves a'! it's crackin' as weel," cried Mary, as the subdued sound of a far-off explosion reached her.

      This was of course no other than the roar of Curly's gun in the act of bursting and vanishing; for neither stock, lock, nor barrel was ever seen again. It left the world like a Norse king on his fire-ship. But, at the moment, Alec was too busy in the depths of his snow-vault to hear or see the signals.

      By-and-by a knock came to the kitchen door, Mary went and opened it.

      "Alec's at hame, I ken," said a rosy boy, almost breathless with past speed and present excitement.

      "Hoo ken ye that, my man?" asked Mary.

      "'Cause the flag's fleein'. Whaur is he?"

      "Gin ye ken sae muckle aboot him already, ye can jist fin' him to yersel'!"

      "The bick's oot!" panted Linkum.

      But Mary shut the door.

      "Here's a job!" said Linkum to himself. "I canna gang throu a steekit door. And there's Juno wi' the rin o' the haill toun. Deil tak her!"

      But at the moment he heard Alec whistling a favourite tune, as he shovelled away at the snow.

      "General!" cried Linkum, in ecstasy.

      "Here!" answered Alec, flinging his spade twenty feet from him, and bolting in the direction of the call. "Is't you, Linkum?"

      "She's oot, General."

      "Deil hae her, gin ever she wins in again, the curst worryin' brute!

       Did ye gang to Curly?"

      "Ay did I. He fired the gun, and brunt three blue lichts, and waited seven minutes and a half; and syne he sent me for ye, General."

      "_Con_foon' 't," cried Alec, and tore through shrubbery and hedge, the nearest way to the road, followed by Linkum, who even at full speed was not a match for Alec. Away they flew like the wind, along the well-beaten path to the town, over the footbridge that crossed the Glamour, and full speed up the hill to Willie Macwha, who, with a dozen or fifteen more, was anxiously waiting for the commander. They all had their book-bags, pockets, and arms filled with stones lately broken for mending the turnpike road, mostly granite, but partly whinstone and flint. One bag was ready filled for Alec.

      "Noo," said the General, in the tone of Gideon of old, "gin ony o' ye be fleyt at the brute, jist gang hame."

      "Ay! ay! General."

      But nobody stirred, for those who were afraid had slunk away the moment they saw Alec coming up the hill, like the avenger of blood.

      "Wha's watchin' her?"

      "Doddles, Gapy, and Goat."

      "Whaur was she last seen?"

      "Takin' up wi' anither tyke on the squaure."

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