He may fight shy of the dinner. But he's down for the pipes, you know, and--well, he's just got to be there. Good-bye, you chaps;
I'm off! And--I say, men!" When Dunn said "men" they all knew it was their captain that was speaking. Everybody stood listening.
Dunn hesitated a moment or two, as if searching for words. "About the dinner to-night: I'd like you to remember--I mean--I don't want any man to--oh, hang it, you know what I mean! There will be lots of fellows there who will want to fill you up. I'd hate to see any of our team--" The captain paused embarrassed.
"We tumble, Captain," said Martin, a medical student from Canada, who played quarter. "I'll keep an eye on 'em, you bet!"
Everybody roared; for not only on the quarter-line but also at the dinner table the little quarter-back was a marvel of endurance.
"Hear the blooming Colonist!" said Linklater, Martin's comrade on the quarter-line, and his greatest friend. "We know who'll want the watching, but we'll see to him, Captain."
"All right, old chap! Sorry I'll have to cut the van. I'm afraid my governor's got the carriage here for me."
But the men all made outcry. There were other plans for him.
"But, Captain; hold on!"
"Aw, now, Captain! Don't forsake us!"
"But I say, Dunn, see us through; we're shy!"
"Don't leave us, Captain, or you'll be sorry," sang out Martin.
"Come on, fellows, let's keep next him! We'll give him 'Old Grimes!'"
Already a mighty roar was heard outside. The green, the drive, the gateways, and the street were blocked with the wildest football fanatics that Edinburgh, and all Scotland could produce. They were waiting for the International players, and were bent on carrying their great captain down the street, shoulder high; for the enthusiasm of the Scot reaches the point of madness only in the hour of glorious defeat. But before they were aware, Dunn had shouldered his mighty form through the opposing crowds and had got safely into the carriage beside his father and his young brother.
But the crowd were bound to have him.
"We want him, Docthor," said a young giant in a tam-o'-shanter.
"In fac', Docthor," he argued with a humourous smile, "we maun hae him."
"Ye'll no' get him, Jock Murchison," shouted young Rob, standing in front of his big brother. "We want him wi' us."
The crowd laughed gleefully.
"Go for him, Jock! You can easy lick him," said a voice encouragingly.
"Pit him oot, Docthor," said Jock, who was a great friend of the family, and who had a profound respect for the doctor.
"It's beyond me, Jock, I fear. See yon bantam cock! I doubt ye'll hae to be content," said the doctor, dropping into Jock's kindly Doric.
"Oh, get on there, Murchison," said Dunn impatiently. "You're not going to make an ass of me; make up your mind to that!"
Jock hesitated, meditating a sudden charge, but checked by his respect for Doctor Dunn.
"Here, you fellows!" shouted a voice. "Fall in; the band is going to play! Get into line there, you Tam-o'-shanter; you're stopping the procesh! Now then, wait for the line, everybody!" It was Little Martin on top of the van in which were the Scottish players.
"Tune, 'Old Grimes'; words as follows. Catch on, everybody!"
"Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn."
With a delighted cheer the crowd formed in line, and, led by the little quarter-back on top of the van, they set off down the street, two men at the heads of the doctor's carriage horses, holding them in place behind the van. On went the swaying crowd and on went the swaying chant, with Martin, director of ceremonies and Dunn hurling unavailing objurgations and entreaties at Jock's head.
Through the uproar a girl's voice reached the doctor's ear:
"Aren't they lovely, Sir?"
The doctor turned to greet a young lady, tall, strong, and with the beauty of perfect health rather than of classic feature in her face. There was withal a careless disregard of the feminine niceties of dress.
"Oh, Miss Brodie! Will you not come up? We can easily make room."
"I'd just love to," cried the girl, "but I'm only a humble member of the procession, following the band and the chariot wheels of the conqueror." Her strong brown face was all aglow with ardour.
"Conqueror!" growled Dunn. "Not much of a conqueror!"
"Why not? Oh fudge! The game? What matters the game? It's the play we care about."
"Well spoken, lassie," said the doctor. "That's the true sport."
"Aren't they awful?" cried Dunn. "Look at that young Canadian idiot up there."
"Well, if you ask me, I think he's a perfect dear," said Miss Brodie, deliberately. "I'm sure I know him; anyway I'm going to encourage him with my approval." And she waved her hand at Martin.
The master of ceremonies responded by taking off his hat and making a sweeping bow, still keeping up the beat. The crowd, following his eyes, turned their attention to the young lady, much to Dunn's delight.
"Oh," she gasped, "they'll be chanting me next! Good-bye! I'm off!" And she darted back to the company of her friends marching on the pavement.
At this point Martin held up both arms and called for silence.
"Second verse," he shouted, "second verse! Get the words now!"
"Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done."
But the crowd rejected the Colonial version, and rendered in their own good Doric:
"Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done."
And so they sang and swayed, following the van till they neared Queen Street, down which lay the doctor's course.
"For heaven's sake, can't they be choked off?" groaned Dunn.
The doctor signalled Jock to him.
"Jock," he said, "we'll just slip through at Queen Street."
"We'd like awfully to do Princes Street, Sir," pleaded Jock.
"Princes Street, you born ass!" cried Dunn wrathfully.
