"What'll ye do, Jamie, when the meenister kens aboot Bobby, an'
ca's ye up afore kirk sessions for brakin' the rule?""We wullna cross the brig till we come to the burn, woman," he invariably answered, with assumed unconcern.Well he knew that the bridge might be down and the stream in flood when he came to it.But Mr.Traill was a member of Greyfriars auld kirk, too, and a companion in guilt, and Mr.Brown relied not a little on the landlord's fertile mind and daring tongue.And he relied on useful, well-behaving Bobby to plead his own cause.
"There's nae denyin' the doggie is takin' in 'is ways.He's had twa gude hames fair thrown at 'is heid, but the sperity bit keeps to 'is ain mind.An' syne he's usefu', an' hauds 'is gab by the ordinar'." He often reinforced his inclination with some such argument.
With all their caution, discovery was always imminent.The kirkyard was long and narrow and on rising levels, and it was cut almost across by the low mass of the two kirks, so that many things might be going on at one end that could not be seen from the other.On this Saturday noon, when the Heriot boys were let out for the half-holiday, Mr.Brown kept an eye on them until those who lived outside had dispersed.When Mistress Jeanie tucked her knitting-needles in her belt, and went up to the lodge to put the dinner over the fire, the caretaker went down toward Candlemakers Row to trim the grass about the martyrs' monument.
Bobby dutifully trotted at his heels.Almost immediately a half-dozen laddies, led by Geordie Ross and Sandy McGregor, scaled the wall from Heriot's grounds and stepped down into the kirkyard, that lay piled within nearly to the top.They had a perfectly legitimate errand there, but no mission is to be approached directly by romantic boyhood.
"Hist!" was the warning, and the innocent invaders, feeling delightfully lawless, stole over and stormed the marble castle, where "Bluidy" McKenzie slept uneasily against judgment day.
Light-hearted lads can do daring deeds on a sunny day that would freeze their blood on a dark and stormy night.So now Geordie climbed nonchalantly to a seat over the old persecutor, crossed his stout, bare legs, filled an imaginary pipe, and rattled the three farthings in his pocket.
"I'm 'Jinglin' Geordie' Heriot," he announced.
"I'll show ye hoo a prood goldsmith ance smoked wi' a'."Then, jauntily: "Sandy, gie a crack to 'Bluidy' McKenzie's door an' daur the auld hornie to come oot.
The deed was done amid breathless apprehensions, but nothing disturbed the silence of the May noon except the lark that sprang at their feet and soared singing into the blue.It was Sandy who presently whistled like a blackbird to attract the attention of Bobby.
There were no blackbirds in the kirkyard, and Bobby understood the signal.He scampered up at once and dashed around the kirk, all excitement, for he had had many adventures with the Heriot boys at skating and hockey on Duddingston Lock in the winter, and tramps over the country and out to Leith harbor in the spring.
The laddies prowled along the upper wall of the kirks, opened and shut the wicket, to give the caretaker the idea that they had come in decorously by the gate, and went down to ask him, with due respect and humility, if they could take Bobby out for the afternoon.They were going to mark the places where wild flowers might be had, to decorate "Jinglin' Geordie's" portrait, statue and tomb at the school on Founder's Day.Mr.Brown considered them with a glower that made the boys nudge each other knowingly.
"Saturday isna the day for 'im to be gaen aboot.He aye has a washin' an' a groomin' to mak' 'im fit for the Sabbath.An', by the leuk o' ye, ye'd be nane the waur for soap an' water yer ainsel's.""We'll gie ' im 'is washin' an' combin' the nicht," they volunteered, eagerly.
"Weel, noo, he wullna hae 'is dinner till the time-gun."Neither would they.At that, annoyed by their persistence, Mr.
Brown denied authority.
"Ye ken weel he isna ma dog.Ye'll hae to gang up an' spier Maister Traill.He's fair daft aboot the gude-for-naethin' tyke."This was understood as permission.As the boys ran up to the gate, with Bobby at their heels, Mr.Brown called after them: "Ye fetch 'im hame wi' the sunset bugle, an' gin ye teach 'im ony o'
yer unmannerly ways I'll tak' a stick to yer breeks."When they returned to Mr.Traill's place at two o'clock the landlord stood in shirt-sleeves and apron in the open doorway with Bobby, the little dog gripping a mutton shank in his mouth.
"Bobby must tak' his bone down first and hide it awa'.The Sabbath in a kirkyard is a dull day for a wee dog, so he aye gets a catechism of a bone to mumble over."'The landlord sighed in open envy when the laddies and the little dog tumbled down the Row to the Grassmarket on their gypsying.
His eyes sought out the glimpse of green country on the dome of Arthur's Seat, that loomed beyond the University towers to the east.There are times when the heart of a boy goes ill with the sordid duties of the man.
Straight down the length of the empty market the laddies ran, through the crooked, fascinating haunt of horses and jockeys in the street of King's Stables, then northward along the fronts of quaint little handicrafts shops that skirted Castle Crag.By turning westward into Queensferry Street a very few minutes would have brought them to a bit of buried country.But every expedition of Edinburgh lads of spirit of that day was properly begun with challenges to scale Castle Rock from the valley park of Princes Street Gardens on the north.
