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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+Author: Madeline Brandeis
+
+Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40664]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Colin M. Kendall and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+[Illustration: THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER]
+
+
+
+
+_The_ WEE SCOTCH PIPER
+
+BY
+
+MADELINE BRANDEIS
+
+_Producer of the Motion Pictures_
+
+  "The Little Indian Weaver"
+  "The Wee Scotch Piper"
+  "The Little Dutch Tulip Girl"
+  "The Little Swiss Wood-Carver"
+
+Distributed by Pathé Exchange, Inc., New York City
+
+_Photographic Illustrations made in Scotland by the Author_
+
+  GROSSET & DUNLAP
+  PUBLISHERS  NEW YORK
+  _by arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company_
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+When I began to write these stories about children of all lands I had
+just returned from Europe whither I journeyed with Marie and Ref. Maybe
+you don't know Marie and Ref. I'll introduce them: Please meet Marie,
+my very little daughter, and Ref, my very big reflex camera.
+
+These two are my helpers. Marie helps by being a little girl who knows
+what other little girls like and by telling me; and Ref helps by
+snapping pictures of everything interesting that Marie and I see on our
+travels. I couldn't get along without them.
+
+Several years have gone by since we started our work together and Marie
+is a bigger girl--but Ref hasn't changed one bit. Ref hasn't changed
+any more than my interest in writing these books for you. And I hope
+that _you_ hope that I'll never change, because I want to keep on
+writing until we'll have no more countries to write about--unless, of
+course, some one discovers a new country.
+
+Even if a new country isn't discovered, we'll find foreign children to
+talk about--maybe the children in Mars! Who knows? Nobody. Not even
+Marie--and Marie usually knows about most things. That's the reason
+why, you see, though I sign myself
+
+[Handwritten: Madeline Brandeis]
+
+I am really only
+
+Marie's Mother.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+  To every child of every land,
+    Little sister, little brother,
+  As in this book your lives unfold,
+    May you learn to love each other.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ Chapter I                      Page
+ The Craig Family                 11
+
+ Chapter II
+ Sandy's First Visit              28
+
+ Chapter III
+ Pipers                           44
+
+ Chapter IV
+ Sandy Returns                    53
+
+ Chapter V
+ Through Scotland With Sandy      71
+
+ Chapter VI
+ Ian's Betty                      91
+
+ Chapter VII
+ Alan Craig Tells a Story        102
+
+ Chapter VIII
+ Pipers and Troubles             113
+
+ Chapter IX
+ Ian Tries Again                 129
+
+ Chapter X
+ Spring                          138
+
+ Chapter XI
+ The Wee Scotch Piper            153
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SOUND OF HIS PIPES ECHOED BACK THROUGH THE GLEN]
+
+
+
+
+The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE CRAIG FAMILY
+
+
+In the wee village of Aberfoyle, which is in Perthshire County,
+Scotland, lived Alan Craig, a shepherd.
+
+The sheep of Scotland, like the bagpipes and bluebells, are famous, and
+in Aberfoyle there are many.
+
+Dotted alongside the road are the bright bluebells, lighting up in true
+fairy array the darkness made by big, shady trees.
+
+Shrieking through the stillness of a summer evening, comes the sound of
+the bagpipes. This music is furnished by a tattered piper marching up
+and down, up and down. He hopes that the people will throw pennies for
+the love of the tune he plays.
+
+And the sheep, like little dots of white in the green meadows, graze.
+But sometimes, they, too, shriek when they are herded together, perhaps
+for the clipping.
+
+When the sheep all bleat together, it sounds very much like the
+shrieking of the bagpipes. Maybe that is how the bagpipe was really
+started. Perhaps the sound was first uttered by a herd of Scotch sheep!
+
+It was not yet clipping time on the small farm of Alan Craig. His sheep
+still roamed the hills. Their heavy, curly wool weighed them down and
+made them look as if they had on long, woollen nighties.
+
+[Illustration: SCOTLAND IS FULL OF SHEEP]
+
+The babies sometimes walked right under their mothers, and then they
+were completely hidden.
+
+On a hill sat Alan Craig, and by his side his faithful dog, Roy. Roy
+was a real sheep dog and was proud of his profession.
+
+You know, when people are called professionals, it means that they are
+trained in one occupation. Of course, people make money at their
+professions, and this was the only difference between Roy and a
+professional human.
+
+Roy was a professional sheep dog, but he did his work out of devotion
+to his master. Also he did it because it was in his blood to love to
+race the timid sheep over the hills and obey his master's commands.
+
+"Back, Roy!" shouted Alan Craig.
+
+Roy jumped to his feet and, barking, ran to bring back the flock, which
+had disappeared around a rocky mountain.
+
+"Bowwow-wow!" The sheep heard him coming and, stupid creatures that
+they are, started to run the other way. "Bowwow!"
+
+"Down, sir, down!" came the voice of Alan Craig from afar, and Roy
+understood.
+
+Silently he made a dash for the leading sheep and, bounding ahead of
+the herd, he stood on guard. His feet were planted apart, and his
+tongue hung out. He was barking in his own language a short Scotch
+bark, which meant, "Now, will you go back?"
+
+All but the leading sheep began to turn. That leader was, however, a
+mother sheep with a loved baby. She had always been very suspicious of
+Roy.
+
+Perhaps he had once snapped at her baby, for he often had to do this to
+make the sheep behave. At any rate, the mother sheep could not forgive
+him. Without any fear, she now sprang toward Roy and butted her head in
+defiance.
+
+[Illustration: THE VILLAGE OF ABERFOYLE]
+
+Roy stood his ground and then made a plunge at her legs. Meanwhile, he
+let out a shrill bark as one of her sharp horns hit his leg. It was a
+short but hard battle.
+
+At last Roy returned to his master, his tongue nearly sweeping the
+ground. But there was a triumphant expression in his eyes as he drove
+the crowd of panting sheep into a circle around Alan Craig and threw
+himself at his master's feet to await his reward.
+
+This was not long in coming. Alan Craig appreciated his helper. In fact
+Roy was really the shepherd. Alan had only to speak his commands--"work
+his dog," as the Scotch say--and Roy did the rest.
+
+Now he stroked his dog and said, "Good, Roy! Well done!"
+
+Alan's language was well understood by Roy, but these words would have
+sounded this way to you: "Gude, Roy! Weel dune!" had Alan spoken in
+the Scotch dialect to Roy.
+
+He could speak very good English, and did when he spoke to Englishmen.
+But you see, Roy was a Scotchman!
+
+From the little white cottage in the hollow came the smell of
+dinner--fresh pancakes and meat cooking.
+
+Alan picked up his crook--the kind that little Bopeep used--only Alan
+did not look like little Bopeep. Indeed, he was very different.
+
+He was a big strong man. Although we picture a Scotch shepherd dressed
+in kilts and socks and perhaps a tam, Alan Craig wore none of these.
+Kilts and socks and tams are for the gentry, Alan would tell you, and
+shepherds are too poor to afford them.
+
+[Illustration: MRS. CRAIG AND IAN'S BABY SISTER AT THE VILLAGE PUMP]
+
+So Alan wore an old suit which might have once been worn by your own
+father and then given away to some beggar. Alan was poor like most of
+the villagers, for Scotland is rather a poor country.
+
+Still, in the little village of Aberfoyle, everyone was happy. In the
+evenings the people from the big city of Glasgow came in big buses.
+They danced outside on the village green to the tune of the pipes,
+while they gloried in the fresh country air.
+
+So you must not think that Alan Craig and his family suffered. Indeed,
+there could hardly have been a happier little family in Scotland.
+
+That evening Alan wended his way homeward and was met by his wife and
+baby. If you have ever seen how an Indian mother carries her baby, then
+you will know how Mrs. Craig carried hers. Only instead of carrying it
+on her back as the Indians do, she carried it in front wrapped securely
+in her plaid shawl.
+
+Her one arm was thus free, and she worked most of the day this way,
+while knowing and feeling her little one safe in her arms.
+
+The family sat down to dinner in their wee kitchen, for the farmers
+have no such luxury as a dining room. They started their soup, a thick
+broth made of barley and vegetables of all kinds. Mother Craig poured
+it out of the big tureen.
+
+Just at this time, the door burst open, and a ruddy-faced boy of ten
+years rushed into the room.
+
+[Illustration: IAN CRAIG]
+
+"Ian Craig, do you know the hour?" asked Mother Craig.
+
+The boy stood in the doorway and smiled at the family. He sniffed with
+delight the pleasant odor coming to him from the table.
+
+"Ay, Mother," answered the boy. "Well do I know."
+
+Then he prepared to take his place at the table, with a gesture of
+rubbing his stomach in thinking of what was to be put inside.
+
+"What a bonny smell, Mother!" he continued. "And surely the taste is
+even bonnier!"
+
+"'Tis the glib tongue you have, Ian Craig," laughed his father. "You
+could write poetry to the smell of a good dinner! And now, what have
+you to tell us to-night?"
+
+Now, Ian was always full of stories and tales of adventure. He was one
+of those children to whom something exciting is always happening.
+
+[Illustration: ALAN CRAIG, IAN, AND ROY]
+
+So the family were quite accustomed to having him return home with
+vivid tales. Some were strange, some droll and, alas, some sad and
+painful, told to the tune of bandages and arnica.
+
+Still, what boy is not sometimes hurt? And Ian's accidents were few, in
+comparison to his other experiences. Surely, it is to be wondered how,
+in a small, quiet town like Aberfoyle, so many wondrous happenings
+could occur.
+
+Sometimes Ian was doubted, not, however, by his parents, who knew that
+their son was truthful. The schoolmaster knew it, too, and was proud of
+Ian, whose stories and poems were the best in his class.
+
+One day he was recounting to a group of spellbound school children his
+experiences of the day. He was relating what wondrous happenings had
+befallen him, when he was interrupted by a boy who shouted, "Ian Craig
+is telling lies!"
+
+The boy was a year older than Ian, but he was never known to make sport
+of Ian again. Nor did Ian ever admit to his parents how it happened
+that he arrived home from school that day with a swollen eye.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+SANDY'S FIRST VISIT
+
+
+Aberfoyle is the center of the "Rob Roy country." Rob Roy MacGregor
+was, as every child knows, a great Scotch warrior and represented one
+of the oldest Highland clans.
+
+In Aberfoyle, where Ian Craig lived, stands the old house in which Sir
+Walter Scott wrote his famous story "Rob Roy." To-day it houses the
+village minister.
+
+Near by is a tumble-down thatched cottage known as "Jean McAlpin's
+Inn," where Rob Roy was wont to rest.
+
+[Illustration: THE "ROB ROY BRIG" AND THE HOUSE WHERE WALTER SCOTT
+WROTE "ROB ROY"]
+
+A landmark in the village is the old "Rob Roy Brig." Here on the old
+brig (which means "bridge" in Scotch) Ian would sit when school was out
+and his chores at home were finished.
+
+Something usually happened when he sat here, and many of his
+experiences had started from this bridge. Often, while he waited for
+adventure, Ian fished from the bridge. He brought home fine, fat
+morsels, for the river Forth, which flows beneath the bridge, is rich
+in fish.
+
+But Ian's dearest memory was of Sandy. The Sandy adventure had taken
+place almost a year before, but it was as vivid in Ian's mind as though
+it had all occurred the day before.
+
+It happened while Ian was fishing from the brig. He heard the sound of
+bagpipes--a sound that is nothing unusual to hear in Scotland. Still it
+always made Ian joyous and sad at once. And now he turned to listen.
+
+[Illustration: SANDY MACGREGOR]
+
+This playing was the loveliest he had ever heard. Jamie Robinson played
+almost every night in front of the old hotel, and Ian loved the music.
+But this playing was different. He had always thought Jamie's playing
+good, but he now wondered how he could ever have thought so.
+
+This tune was from far away, but it carried across the meadow and along
+the road. And then he saw Sandy! Sandy was standing still in the middle
+of the road while he played.
+
+By his side was a handcart, and Ian knew at once what it meant. Sandy
+was a wandering piper, a man who has no home, a gypsy. He piped for his
+living and camped on the road.
+
+Many pipers passed through Aberfoyle, some with large families. In
+fact, Jamie was one of them, only Jamie did not travel. He lived in the
+woods near Aberfoyle in a tent with his wife and babies.
+
+[Illustration: GYPSIES OF THE HIGHWAY]
+
+But no one had ever played like this before. Ian ran up the road. As he
+approached the newcomer, he could see that the piper was a little old
+man. He had a kindly, wrinkled face, and twinkling eyes which winked at
+Ian as the boy came closer. Then suddenly he changed his tune.
+
+"Bonny laddie, Highland laddie," shrieked the pipes.
+
+Ian stopped in front of the piper and thought he should cry. The music
+ceased.
+
+A hand was laid on Ian's shoulder, and a voice asked, "And why, laddie,
+do you stand and look with eyes so big and sad?"
+
+Ian then realized that he had been staring as if in a trance. He
+brought himself back to earth, smiled, and put out his hand.
+
+"I'm sorry, sir. I was only admiring your bonny piping!"
+
+"Ach!" laughed the piper. "And I was only admiring the bonny laddie!
+What's your name?"
+
+"Ian Craig."
+
+[Illustration: "MA NAME'S SANDY!"]
+
+"And mine's Sandy. You may call me Sandy, though my name's really Evert
+Robert MacKeith MacGregor, and my great-grandfather was a cousin to
+the great Rob Roy."
+
+With these words, Sandy MacGregor put his pipes into his cart. Then,
+slinging the rope over his shoulders, he started to pull his load
+along, while Ian kept step with him.
+
+"And a fine village this is--the scene of my ancestor's home! Do you
+live here, my lad?"
+
+"Ay, Sandy, and not far from old Rob Roy Brig."
+
+"Well, well," sighed Sandy. "And could we bide a wee on the old brig of
+my ancestor while Sandy rests?"
+
+"Ay, could we," said Ian with great delight, "and I can pull your cart
+for you, Sandy, until we get there."
+
+Gratefully the old man allowed the boy to pull his load, while he
+stretched his tired arms. He breathed in the sweet-smelling air of the
+village of his ancestor.
+
+When they came to the bridge, Ian put down the cart. He invited Sandy
+to sit beside him on the wall, his usual perch. The old man jumped up
+to the boy's side, as spry as the boy himself, and looked around.
+
+"Well, well," he said, "and to think 'tis Sandy's first visit to the
+home of his ancestor--Sandy who has been nigh all over the land!"
+
+At these words Ian's heart gave a bound, and he said, "Have you seen
+nigh all of bonny Scotland, Sandy?"
+
+[Illustration: SANDY TELLS THE LAD ABOUT BONNY SCOTLAND]
+
+"Ay, that have I, lad, and traveled on my own two feet through it all."
+
+"Sandy," said Ian wistfully, "would you be telling me about it?"
+
+"Ach, ay, laddie," smiled the old wanderer. "That would I, for 'tis
+many a fine sight these old eyes have seen."
+
+Sandy talked, and the boy listened. The sun grew lower and lower in the
+heavens. Ian Craig thought that never before had he known an afternoon
+to slip by so quickly.
+
+Sandy told Ian about the time he had visited Edinburgh, Scotland's
+capital, and one of the most attractive cities in the world.
+
+He told of Princes Street, with its sunken gardens on one side, and
+its wonderful view of historic Edinburgh Castle, its pretty shops and
+stately monuments. It is considered by many to be the most beautiful
+street in all the world.
+
+[Illustration: PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH]
+
+On the top of a winding hill is Edinburgh Castle. Here, in the
+courtyard of the old castle is Half-Moon Battery, where is kept the
+one-o'clock gun.
+
+This gun fires every day at the hour of one. It is attached by electric
+wire to the time ball on the top of Nelson's Monument on Carlton Hill
+opposite. This ball falls, in turn, at a signal from Greenwich
+Observatory, near London, where is set the time for the whole world.
+
+In another part of the castle grounds can be found a pathetic little
+plot of ground known as "The Dogs' Cemetery." Here are buried the pets
+of the soldiers who fought in the World War.
+
+[Illustration: THE DOGS' CEMETERY]
+
+Many of these little beasts were gallant heroes and were buried with
+great reverence. Lovely flowers decorate their graves, and inscriptions
+tell of each one's valor.
+
+But to one little dog in particular was a fountain erected. It stands
+in one of the streets of Edinburgh. This fountain represents
+"Greyfriars' Bobby," as the little dog was called.
+
+He was given this name because it was to the old Greyfriars Churchyard
+that he went, day after day, to seek his master, who was buried there.
+The caretakers of the cemetery tried to keep him out.
+
+Still day after day he came. He always lay upon the grave of his master
+and grieved, until one day they found him dead. And now the fountain is
+there to remind the people of this faithful little creature.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PIPERS
+
+
+"Do you think my dog would grieve if I should die?" asked Ian, as he
+brushed away a tear with his sleeve and tried to distract Sandy's
+attention from his action.
+
+"Ay, if you treat him kindly, lad," answered the old man. "Beasties are
+faithful to us when they know we love them."
+
+"Ay," said Ian. "Roy is faithful, and a smart sheep dog, too."
+
+"Do you like fine to herd the sheep, laddie?" asked Sandy.
+
+Ian hung his head.
+
+"No, Sandy. I like finer to go about and have adventures and make up
+that I am--" He hesitated.
+
+"What, lad? Speak. Do not be afraid of Sandy for he knows the hearts of
+laddies well."
+
+"If I could play the pipes, Sandy, I would go away and be a piper in
+the band some day," confessed Ian.
+
+This was, indeed, a dream so near to his heart that he had never before
+spoken it aloud. After the admission, Ian turned his head away and did
+not look at Sandy. But the old man's voice was very soft and his tone
+caressing, as he said, "And a fine dream it is, Ian lad, for to be a
+piper is a great and honored calling."
+
+"Ay," answered Ian huskily, "but 'tis not for me, Sandy."
+
+Sandy turned the boy around then and looked him squarely in the eye.
+
+"Ian, lad, do not speak so, for nothing is too hard to get when you
+want it."
+
+Ian's eyes lighted up for a moment. Then the same forlorn look came
+into them as he let his head droop.
+
+"No, Sandy. The pipes are too dear, and it takes many months to learn
+to play."
+
+"And you study hard at school, lad?" asked the piper.
+
+"Ay, do I," spoke the boy.
+
+"Then some day, you'll be liking to hear of the fine military school I
+saw."
+
+[Illustration: THE PIPER LADDIES]
+
+"Ach, Sandy, tell me about it. Have you really seen it?" Ian was at
+once alert.
+
+"Ay, that have I, and only three weeks ago when I was passing by
+Dunblane."
+
+As the poor little village lad drank in his words, Sandy talked on
+about the wonderful school in Dunblane. This school is called the Queen
+Victoria School. Here lads between the ages of nine and fifteen are
+trained as soldiers.
+
+They are sons of military men, some of whom fell in the World War.
+These boys are reared and taught free of charge. It is a great and good
+school for a boy to attend.
+
+[Illustration: THE DRUM MAJOR]
+
+To see and hear these sons of Scotland's heroes is an experience never
+to be forgotten. They present a fine appearance in their bright-colored
+kilts and military trappings, as they march and play upon their pipes.
+
+Sandy saw and heard, and carried away with him a memory of the
+loveliest sight and sound imaginable. Coming toward him were boys.
+Children they were, with their kilts making a vivid pattern.
+
+Their bare knees moved in perfect unison as they stepped to the tunes
+of Scotland's patriotic melodies. They played in a way unsurpassed by
+pipers older and more experienced than they.
+
+First came a waltz, gracefully played and gracefully stepped. Then came
+a march, loud, fast, but always in perfect harmony. The sound might
+have come from a single organ played, perhaps, by Scottish cherubim.
+
+The drum major wore a plumed helmet and carried a baton. He was only
+fourteen years old, but he twirled his stick and marched like a veteran
+of many wars.
+
+[Illustration: THE DRUMMER BOY]
+
+The little twelve-year-old drummer swung his drumsticks into the air
+and caught them again. He never missed a beat on his drum. The rest,
+pipers all, marched and played. Their cheeks puffed in and out, while
+their fingers moved and made melodies.
+
+Throughout the hills echoed the sound. It was the same as echoed during
+the Battle of Bannockburn, when Scottish history was made. To these
+tunes, in this same rugged country marched, years ago, these lads'
+ancestors.
+
+And Sandy carried his memories of Queen Victoria School back to Ian
+Craig. Ian's longing to become a piper grew greater as he listened. In
+his heart he uttered a silent prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+SANDY RETURNS
+
+
+Though his meeting with Sandy had happened many months before, neither
+the memory of Sandy nor of the pipers had dimmed in Ian's mind. Through
+his hours of work and play his thoughts turned to marching Highland
+laddies and shrieking pipes.
+
+He would often imagine himself as one of their number. Indeed, often on
+his walks to school he would "make believe," as so many children call
+it. People would turn to see why the little boy in kilts marched so
+straight and puffed his cheeks out.
+
+Ian wore kilts, though his father did not. Many of the children went to
+school in their kilts. Yet many could not afford to do this and wore
+them only on Sundays.
+
+Ian, however, had a school kilt and a Sunday kilt and was very proud of
+his wardrobe. One of the main reasons for his pride lay in the fact
+that in kilts he could better imagine himself a piper.
+
+Marching alone one morning, he met Elsie. Elsie was only a wee lass,
+far younger than Ian. But she liked the tall boy who always smiled at
+her and who walked so straight.
+
+Ian liked Elsie better than the other lassies, who did not understand,
+as Elsie did, the importance and grandeur of pipers. Besides, the
+others were either too freckled, or their cheeks too red.
+
+[Illustration: IAN'S SCHOOL]
+
+Some Scotch children have the complexions of bright sunsets. Ian liked
+Elsie's bonny face, with the few little freckles on her nose, and her
+sunny smile.
+
+This morning Elsie overtook him as he was marching to his own silent
+drone of pipes.
+
+"Do not march so, Ian. The children will be laughing at you when you
+reach the school. I heard them saying you're daft about pipers, and I
+thought I'd tell you," she said.
+
+Ian looked down into the little maiden's blue eyes. She, too, was
+dressed in a kilt. She wore over it a red jersey.
+
+Unlike Ian, she did not have the sporran. That is what the Scotch call
+the piece of fur hanging down in front of the kilt. Each child's kilt
+was, however, pinned on the side with a large safety pin--which is the
+style in wearing kilts.
+
+[Illustration: KILTED SCHOOL CHILDREN]
+
+Elsie's hair was done in two braids, which hung down her back. Though
+he resented what she told him, Ian thought she was very sweet. For she
+looked at him in a way that made his resentment soon fade.
+
+Smiling, he said, "Thanks, Elsie. I'll not march now."
+
+Silently they walked together. Ian was very near telling his little
+friend about his dreams.
+
+But while he was weighing the probable outcome of such a move, the
+school bell rang. It was half past nine, the time that school in
+Scotland starts in the springtime. Ian and Elsie ran.
+
+At one o'clock, Ian went home to his lunch. Elsie stayed, for her home
+was far away. She brought her "piece," which is what the Scotch
+children call their lunch. No doubt the word refers to their piece of
+bread, which, with an apple, is sometimes all they get.
+
+At home, Ian's mother always had waiting for him a plate of Scotch
+broth, potatoes, and sometimes an apple tart. After school Ian was
+drawn to the bridge.
+
+The work at home was not pressing to-day. Father was away with the
+sheep. Mother did not need Ian. His heart was light as he started off
+for the old brig. He walked along with the hope of adventure, while in
+his ears the imaginary sound of pipes played.
+
+"Ian, wait," called Elsie, and ran after him.
+
+Ian stopped and remembered that he had almost told her. How could a wee
+lass like that understand? No. He would not speak. What was more, he
+would not let her come along, for he knew that was what she wanted to
+do.
+
+"Are you going fishing from the brig?" asked Elsie blithely.
+
+"Ay," answered Ian sulkily, as he stepped ahead of her.
+
+"May I go with you, Ian?" queried the small girl.
+
+"No, Elsie. You're too wee for fishing, and you scare the fish."
+
+Elsie's lip quivered. Ian feared she would cry right out on the road.
+Then what would he do?
+
+"Ach, don't cry, lass. Run home to your mother, for 'tis late for you
+to be out, and she'll be worried."
+
+It was all said kindly but much too eagerly. Elsie, who was keen, did
+not doubt for a moment that she was not wanted.
+
+She ran off, while Ian, with a sigh--sad to say, of relief--ran to his
+home. He kissed his mother, took down his fishing rod, and was off for
+fish and dreams.
+
+At the bridge, adventure indeed awaited him, had he but known. He
+settled himself in his favorite place and threw his line down into the
+river. Little did he suspect what was to happen.
+
+Singing to himself, he waited. A tug on his line! So soon? Ah, the fish
+were biting well to-day. Mother would be pleased. What a big fish and
+how it pulled! Ian struggled for several minutes, and then up came his
+prize.
+
+But what sort of fish was this? It looked like a fuzzy ball of brown
+fur. As it came up closer, Ian saw that it was a bear--a toy bear. It
+was undoubtedly the property of a certain Elsie Campbell!
+
+"Out, you wee devil, out!" cried Ian, standing up and looking down
+under the bridge for his tormentor.
+
+There she was, and her laugh was most annoying to Ian. He was
+scolding, and at the same time trying to undo the hook from the toy
+bear's fur.
+
+"Come up here, you wee devil!" repeated Ian furiously.
+
+Up came the culprit. Ian had to join in her laughter, though he shook
+his finger at her the while. She sat down beside him happily.
+
+"Ian, do you believe in the devil?" she asked.
+
+"Ay, do I," he answered. "'Tis yerself."
+
+"No." Elsie shook her head seriously. "Do you know, I believe 'tis like
+Santa Claus. 'Tis your own father!"
+
+"Ach, Elsie," laughed Ian, at the child's idea. "You know that Santa
+Claus brings you dolls and toy bears and--"
+
+Ian did not go on to complete the list, for just then he heard a sound
+that made his heart beat faster. Jumping down from the wall, he looked
+up the road. Coming toward him was Sandy!
+
+How Elsie ever disappeared Ian never knew. Disappear she did quickly.
+Afterwards, when Ian thought it over, it seemed that fairies had
+snatched her away.
+
+Whatever happened, she was not there when Sandy and Ian greeted each
+other. It was probably her woman's instinct, which bade her leave
+these two to their men's affairs!
+
+[Illustration: SANDY ARRIVES]
+
+How happy was Ian as his kind old friend seated himself by Ian's side
+with the same boyish leap!
+
+"Well, Ian, lad," said Sandy, "the same bonny Aberfoyle, the same
+bonny laddie! And do you have the same bonny dreams?"
+
+"Ach, Sandy, more than ever before. And have you traveled far since
+last I saw you?"
+
+"Ay, that have I, and many's the tale I'll tell you this day. But first
+I must show you something."
+
+Beckoning Ian to his cart, Sandy pointed to a bundle wrapped up in his
+coat.
+
+Tenderly unwrapping it, the old piper pulled out a young lamb, dirty,
+thin, and bleating.
+
+"'Tis a poor hurt beastie, Ian," he said. "I found it on the road. Its
+mother is dead, and it was left to die, too. I picked it up and now
+cannot care for it, as I'm wandering and have no place to keep it."
+
+"Ach, Sandy, couldn't I keep the wee beastie for you?" asked Ian
+eagerly.
+
+Sandy stroked his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"You could, laddie. But 't would be a while till I return--maybe not
+till next spring. And a lamb with no mother is a care."
+
+"Ach, Sandy," cried the boy, "let me do it for you. I could feed it
+with my wee sister's nursing bottle."
+
+"Ach, ay, laddie! Your mother would like that fine!" laughed Sandy.
+"But," he continued soberly, "if you would keep the wee creature, I
+could give you something for your trouble."
+
+"No, Sandy. I would keep it for you, and gladly."
+
+Sandy was still dubious. He was worried for fear the boy's father would
+object to a charge of this kind. The lamb would need tender nursing and
+careful watching.
+
+Sometimes small boys grow careless, although their intentions are of
+the best. Then the task falls to Father or Mother.
+
+As Sandy was revolving these thoughts in his mind, he suddenly had a
+plan.
+
+"Ian," he said, "do you remember the story I told you of the pipers at
+Dunblane?"
+
+"I've thought of little else, Sandy," replied Ian, as he stroked the
+lamb. The little creature was nestling down comfortably in Sandy's
+arms.
+
+"Well, lad, uncover the plaid on my cart and see what I have there."
+
+Ian turned back the bit of plaid covering the cart. Sandy used it to
+protect his personal belongings.
+
+"Two sets o' pipes, Sandy!" exclaimed Ian.
+
+"Ay! One was given me by a man for a service. It is not so bonny as
+mine but might do for a laddie learning to play!"
+
+"Sandy, do you mean--?" Ian cried.
+
+"Ay, lad. In the spring when I return, if this wee beastie is fine, and
+you have done your duty like a true shepherd, then you shall have the
+pipes!"
+
+"Sandy, Sandy, is it true? May I be a piper and play the pipes like the
+laddies in Dunblane? Ach, Sandy!"
+
+Ian was almost mad with joy. For a moment he forgot what service he was
+to render in return for this great reward. But remembering his charge,
+he carefully lifted the little lamb out of Sandy's arms.
+
+He held it tenderly in his own, and said, "You'll find the wee beastie
+well and fat when you return in the spring, Sandy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THROUGH SCOTLAND WITH SANDY
+
+
+The warm air of spring was pleasant. The Craig family's supper was
+spread out before the door of their cottage. They ate outdoors so that
+they could enjoy the beauties of the evening.
+
+It would not be dark here until very late. Ian's father could sit
+before his cottage door, reading his paper by daylight until almost
+eleven o'clock.
+
+Now it was only seven. Mrs. Craig was ringing a bell, which echoed
+through the hills.
+
+This was the way she called her husband and son to the evening meal.
+
+Toward her came Ian, and some one was with him. Mrs. Craig strained her
+eyes to see, but she could not make out the stranger's figure.
+
+As they came closer, Ian ran toward his mother, calling, "Mother, I've
+brought Sandy to tea!"
+
+The old piper politely removed his cap and stood before Ian's mother.
+
+"Your son has brought home an old traveler, mistress," he said.
+
+Mrs. Craig smiled and, shaking Sandy's hand, said, "And glad I am, for
+a friend of Ian's is welcome to the house of his mother. Sit down,
+sir."
+
+Ian told his mother the story of the lamb.
+
+[Illustration: BARRIE'S "WINDOW IN THRUMS"]
+
+He explained how, if he performed his task, he would by next spring be
+the owner of bagpipes.
+
+Mrs. Craig smiled at Sandy and said, "You trust the laddie, sir?"
+
+Sandy MacGregor replied, "Ay; for will he not be a piper in the band
+one fine day?"
+
+Alan Craig and Roy soon returned, and Sandy was introduced to them.
+
+After the little repast, Ian beckoned Sandy to him. Nodding his head
+toward the hills, he said, "Come away and tell now about your travels
+through Scotland, Sandy."
+
+The two sat on the hill and watched the smoke curling up from the
+cottage chimney. And while Sandy smoked his pipe he told Ian once more
+of his wondrous adventures.
+
+Traveling through Scotland is like going through many different
+countries. For Scotland's beauties are varied. Here in the hollow is a
+lovely, quaint village. Its thatched roofs and white walled cottages
+make a picture sweet to behold.
+
+As you go along, soon you pass the peaceful, hilly country and come to
+rocky, steep, and rugged land. You might be in the mountains, for it is
+wild and desolate except for the sheep, which are everywhere.
+
+Around a corner, another village looms into space. This one is cold and
+bleak. You pass through it without sight or sound of human beings. Its
+buildings are tall, stony, and gray. In the center is a pump, where the
+people come to draw their water, but no one is about.
+
+With a shiver you pass on. As you gradually leave the village behind,
+you find yourself again in pastoral land. Thatched cottages come into
+view. Bluebells begin to dot the road. How sweet is the smell of hay
+and cows and clover!
+
+Once more a village, and now you wonder whether this can be the same
+country. For in the narrow streets are children, dogs, women, peasants,
+bicyclists, and more children.
+
+Little girls walk along knitting. Everyone is walking in the middle of
+the cobbled street. Sandy has difficulty in going through the crowd
+with his cart.
+
+This is Kurrimuir, better known as Thrums. It is the scene of many of
+J. M. Barrie's delightful stories. Here on the corner is the dear
+little cottage made famous by Barrie's "A Window in Thrums."
+
+[Illustration: BOYS PLAY CRICKET IN SCOTLAND]
+
+Passing a field, Sandy stops to watch some boys playing cricket. This
+game is very popular in Scotland. All the boys play it, just as
+American boys play baseball.
+
+Doune Castle! Sandy climbs over the fence and starts up toward the
+towering mass of rock. He thinks of the many battles fought around this
+ancient stronghold. It was here that King Robert Bruce made some of
+Scotland's history.
+
+Stirling Castle! Another massive stone memorial of the days of
+Scotland's stormy wars.
+
+Sandy passes on until he comes to the city of Perth. Here he stops
+before the old, old house in which lived "The Fair Maid of Perth," made
+famous by Sir Walter Scott.
+
+[Illustration: DOUNE CASTLE]
+
+In St. Andrews is the oldest golf links in the world. From everywhere
+people come to play the royal and ancient game. It is said that no
+course is at all like the old course at St. Andrews.
+
+As you perhaps know, golf originated in Scotland. St. Andrews is the
+place where it started. Some say that it was first begun by the
+shepherds. It is thought that they used to knock small stones with
+their crooks as they strolled behind their sheep.
+
+On went Sandy to Melrose. He passed the Eildon Hills where King Arthur
+and his knights are supposed to be buried. This is the spot where, 'tis
+said, Sir Walter Scott used to stop his horses every day.
+
+He paused here because he loved to look at the glorious view behind.
+His horses knew the spot so well that they would stop here of their own
+accord. On the day of Sir Walter's funeral, when they were taking his
+body to the Abbey, the horses stopped once more.
+
+In Alloway is the house where the great Scotch poet, Robert Burns,
+lived. Every day it is shown to hundreds of visitors, who pay to go in
+and look at the curious old place.
+
+Its quaint furniture and interesting manuscripts and pictures are all
+connected with the beloved poet. In the gardens are statues
+representing many of the characters in Burns' poems. "Poosie Nancy,"
+"Tam O' Shanter," and many others are there.
+
+Another town made famous by a Scottish character is Maxwelltown, or
+Maxwelton, where Annie Laurie lived.
+
+Passing an ancient graveyard, Sandy stops to marvel at some huge slabs
+of iron. These are still kept to show how, in the seventeenth century,
+the dead were held down in their graves.
+
+[Illustration: THE HOME OF "THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH"]
+
+These heavy slabs were put on top of the dead. This was done to keep
+them from being dug up by robbers. The thieves would steal and sell
+them to doctors and medical students.
+
+The signing of the Covenant was to Scotland what the signing of the
+Declaration of Independence was to America. It was the beginning of
+freedom!
+
+James VI of Scotland tried to force the people into his own religious
+beliefs. They refused to be led. On the first day of March, 1768, in
+the Old Greyfriars Churchyard, the Covenant was signed.
+
+The signing was done on a flat gravestone, which is there to this day.
+And so, just as America has a Liberty Bell, Scotland has a Liberty
+Stone.
+
+As Sandy's old handcart rattles through each little Scottish town, he
+is impressed with the many bookshops he sees in his country. The Scotch
+are enthusiastic readers. Their love and desire for education are
+national traits.
+
+Often Sandy passes young boys or young girls sitting by the roadside,
+absorbed in their books. The colleges and schools of Scotland are fine
+indeed.
+
+When Sandy asks a direction, he is sure to receive a courteous reply.
+The children who come to his side are polite and kind and anxious to
+help. They will gladly do what they can for a stranger and do not ask
+any pay in return.
+
+Over many stores and buildings Sandy reads names which start with
+"Mac," such as MacNiel and MacKenzie. He smiles as he thinks about
+these names. He knows that these people, like himself, are the
+descendants of the old clan leaders.
+
+They gave the name "Mac," which means "son of," to their children. So,
+if a clan leader was named Gregor, the children of his clan would be
+MacGregor. In the olden days, the word "clan," which comes from an old
+Gaelic word meaning "children," was like a great family. Their chief
+was like a father, whom they all obeyed.
+
+To-day, you no doubt know people named MacDonald, MacRae, etc. These
+are the descendants of the "clansmen," as they were called.
+
+Each clan has a tartan of its own. A tartan is what you would probably
+call plaid. It is the heathery mixture of many colors and designs.
+
+Each tartan is different from every other. To-day in Scotland you will
+see the children wearing kilts or ties or tams made of their own family
+tartan.
+
+The town of Paisley is famous for its Paisley shawls. These are very
+much admired by all the world and worn by ladies of fashion.
+
+The Shetland shawls, also famous, are dear to old ladies, because they
+are soft and warm. The Shetland ponies are dear to children, for they
+are so little that they are more like large dogs than like horses. Both
+come from the Shetland Islands, which are north of Scotland and are
+ruggedly wild.
+
+Through all of Sandy's travels he never saw the thistle, which is
+supposed to grow so thickly in Scotland. The thistle, as you perhaps
+know, is used on Scottish crests and banners. No doubt it existed, long
+ago, but to-day it is nowhere to be found.
+
+Here is Loch Drunkie, a queer name with a queer history. It was on the
+shores of this lake that men made whisky--which was against the law.
+
+One day the men saw officers of the law coming toward them. They knew
+that they would be arrested if they were found out. To avoid arrest,
+they emptied their whisky into the lake. People say that the waters
+have remained half whisky from that day to this.
+
+Sandy jogs along toward Aberfoyle. It is the day he delivers his
+injured lamb to the mercies of his young friend. During this time, he
+passes another "loch," the well known and much beloved "Loch Lomond."
+
+Sandy stops on the shore. He gazes below on the shining blue waters,
+upon which ply the tiny white steamers. He shoulders his bagpipes and
+plays the melody known in every clime, "On the bonny, bonny banks of
+Loch Lomond." Here the fairies were wont to dwell. A tale is told of
+fairy dyers, who worked for the clans of Loch Lomond in the days of
+yore.
+
+[Illustration: "ON THE BONNY, BONNY BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND"]
+
+A joke was once played upon the wee elfin folk by a boy. The lad asked
+to have the fleece of a black sheep dyed white. Angered by this
+request, the fairies overturned their pots of dye into the lake and
+never more returned.
+
+But the color from their dye turned the lake an unearthly shade of
+blue. This color is different from that of all other lakes, and thus it
+has remained.
+
+Again Sandy pipes:
+
+  "For me and ma true love will never meet again
+  On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+IAN'S BETTY
+
+
+For many weeks after Sandy's departure from Aberfoyle, Ian tended the
+lamb carefully. He fed it from a baby's bottle. The young creature grew
+strong and fat. It would follow the boy around as though it knew him to
+be its nurse.
+
+It was a loving little animal, and Ian became very fond of it. He would
+take it with him when he sat with his father upon the hill where Roy
+guarded the other sheep.
+
+It did not mingle with the others, for it was an orphan. It knew that
+it did not belong with the flock. Sheep are not like people. Human
+beings, seeing a motherless child, would strive to protect it with
+their own young ones.
+
+[Illustration: IAN FED BETTY FROM A NURSING BOTTLE]
+
+So the task of protector and nurse fell to Ian. He loved to feel the
+wee one's soft fur against his cheek as it lay on the hill with him. He
+liked to feed it from its bottle and hear the soft, gurgling noises it
+made.
+
+It amused him to see its tail waggled so rapidly after each mouthful of
+milk. This is the way it showed Ian how well it liked its dinner. And
+as Ian felt the lamb, warm and soft in his arms, he seemed to feel
+there something else--his beloved bagpipes!
+
+Much to the amusement of his parents, Ian called the lamb Betty, his
+baby sister's name. He felt that it was as helpless and young as she.
+
+Very often they both sucked from their nursing bottles at the same
+time. While they were doing this, they looked at each other with big,
+wondering eyes. Ian often sat and admired the pair and laughingly said
+to his mother, "Your baby and my baby, Mother."
+
+So the days flew by, and the summer wore on. Soon the school bell began
+to ring out again. It told the children that another term was
+beginning.
+
+Ian was loth to leave his happy pastimes in field and on hill. However,
+he, like all Scotch children, was anxious to learn. So one morning, he
+strapped his book bag on his back and started off to school.
+
+That was a lonely day for the lamb Betty. She was lonely because her
+young guardian had hardly ever left her side. The lamb was clearly
+worried and bleated unmercifully until Ian returned from school.
+
+[Illustration: IAN HOME FROM SCHOOL]
+
+When, the next day, the same thing happened, Ian's pet could stand it
+no longer and started out to find him.
+
+Every child in the world knows the song about "Mary's little lamb."
+That day, as Betty marched herself up the steps of Ian's schoolhouse, a
+chorus of childish voices sang out:
+
+  "Ian had a wee, wee lamb;
+  It followed him to school!"
+
+There was much merriment as Ian hurriedly packed Betty off to her home.
+Like the teacher in the song, this teacher had difficulty in restoring
+order.
+
+It was also a flushed and embarrassed Ian who returned to his
+classroom. That evening he lectured Betty upon behavior for lambs!
+
+However, Betty was either disobedient or else too young to understand
+Ian's lecture. The next day she tried to repeat her performance. She
+started off on a gallop to find her young master. I say, "tried," for
+alas, this time poor Betty could not find Ian's school!
+
+For many hours she wandered about. She went farther and farther, not
+only from school but from home. Evening fell, and Betty was bleating
+alone in a dense forest--lost!
+
+At last Ian returned from school. For several moments, he could not
+understand why Betty did not come to meet him. He stood and gazed
+about. Then a terrible thought came to him.
+
+[Illustration: LOST!]
+
+Rushing to his father on the hillside, he asked excitedly for his pet.
+Alan Craig shook his head sadly.
+
+"I've sent Roy again, laddie, but he's returned once alone. I fear the
+beastie is lost."
+
+Lost! Ian's world fell about him. The sound of distant bagpipes seemed
+to resound dully in his ears. The words of Sandy came to him through
+the dim: "In the spring, if this beastie is fine, and you have done
+your duty--"
+
+His duty! And poor Betty! Where could she be? A little lonely creature,
+more baby than animal, tended so carefully, and unused to the thorns
+and sharp rocks of the hills--alone and lost!
+
+"Father!" was all that Ian could gasp. Just then he saw Roy coming
+toward them, his tail between his legs. An expression of failure was in
+his shepherd eyes.
+
+"Roy, lad, can you not find her?" asked Ian.
+
+Ian threw his school books off his back. Kneeling, he put his arms
+around the neck of Roy. Roy answered in his own way. It was as clear to
+Ian as though the dog had cried out to him, "No, laddie, she's lost,
+lost!"
+
+And if a sheep was lost to Roy, it was indeed a lost sheep! For the
+clever dog would smell a sheep for many miles. He would, in fact,
+encounter any danger to bring a straggler back to the fold.
+
+Still, thought Ian, Betty was not really one of the fold. It was
+possible that Roy's experience did not fit him to scent out tame pets.
+
+"I'm going to look, Father," shouted the heartbroken boy.
+
+Calling Roy, he started off on a run. The father shook his head and
+felt a great pity for his little son.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ALAN CRAIG TELLS A STORY
+
+
+The word "Betty" resounded in the hills many times that evening. The
+lights in the village were already lighted when a tired, heartsick boy,
+followed by a sympathetic sheep dog, returned to the Craig cottage.
+
+There they were awaited by Alan Craig. The lad stumbled blindly into
+the house.
+
+He found his father with a candle in his hand, waiting to lead the
+disappointed boy to his bed.
+
+Ian cried himself to sleep that night. Roy, the dog, sat beside him
+and mourned for the lost member of the little household.
+
+The next day and the next were spent in searching the hills, the
+fields, and the forest. Fortunately for Ian, they were Saturday and
+Sunday, and he did not have to go to school.
+
+He arose before the dawn and did not return until evening. But it was
+always the same. Betty was nowhere to be found. Though Ian and Roy
+hunted in every conceivable place, the lamb had disappeared.
+
+On Monday, Ian was forced to relinquish his hunt and go to school.
+Immediately after school he called to Roy and was off again.
+
+"The lad hardly eats his meals, he's so troubled!" said Mrs. Craig to
+her husband, as she shook her head.
+
+Alan bit his pipe in silence, while his heart bled for Ian.
+
+Alan had been training a new dog for the sheep. He was using this dog
+instead of Roy, who was allowed to stay with Ian and help him in his
+search.
+
+But this meant added work for Alan, who had to be on the watch. He
+could not leave his charges completely in the care of this new helper,
+as he had done with Roy. Many times the new dog frightened the sheep.
+They soon became panicky and ran in all directions.
+
+Then the dog forgot all of Alan's training and ran after them wildly.
+Alan always had to come himself to restore order.
+
+One day he tramped miles to recover a terrified mother and her baby.
+After this long walk, Alan sat on the hillside.
+
+Meanwhile the new dog looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and
+dropped his tail because he was ashamed.
+
+As the shepherd sat smoking, he saw his son coming toward him, followed
+by Roy. Ian threw himself down beside his father. Letting his head sink
+upon the shepherd's knee, he gave up the search.
+
+"'Tis weary I am, Father," he sighed. "The search is over, and my wee
+lamb is gone."
+
+[Illustration: IAN GIVES UP THE SEARCH]
+
+"And your pipes, Ian? Are they to be lost, too?" queried the shepherd.
+
+"Ay," answered his son, "for Sandy said, 'If you tend the wee creature
+well till spring!' Now Sandy will return in the spring, and there'll be
+no creature."
+
+For a few moments Alan Craig smoothed Ian's curly black hair. The boy
+tried hard to hold back his sobs, which were nearly choking him.
+
+Then Alan Craig spoke. "Ian, lad, have you not heard the story of Bruce
+and the spider?"
+
+"Ay, Father," replied Ian. "'Tis in my history book."
+
+"Then mind well while I repeat it to you. For King Robert Bruce was a
+great man, and he never gave up!"
+
+Ian listened intently while his father recounted the well-known tale.
+He told how, many, many years ago, King Robert Bruce had fought with
+the English and lost numerous battles. One night, he was lying
+despondent on a rude couch in his tent on the battlefield.
+
+[Illustration: KING BRUCE AND THE SPIDER]
+
+His heart was heavy with the memory of his lost battles and of the
+suffering throughout his country. Just then his eye fell upon a spider
+in the corner of the tent. The industrious little creature was trying
+to fix its web to the top pole of the tent. It had already made six
+attempts, but each time it had fallen.
+
+King Bruce bethought him of his lost battles. Six! He and the spider
+had failed six times. And now he, King Bruce, was about to give up!
+Would the spider also be downed, or would it, perhaps, persevere once
+more?
+
+King Bruce made a vow to himself. He decided that, should the wee
+creature try again to fix its web and be successful, then he, Robert
+Bruce, would profit by the spider's lesson and fight another battle!
+
+The spider made another attempt. Slowly it raised its shadowy body
+until, quivering in the air, it balanced itself for the final plunge.
+The King raised himself on his elbow and watched. A nation awaited that
+spider's success or failure!
+
+Again it plunged, caught at the pole, and fixed its web! King Robert
+Bruce jumped to his feet. He threw his plaid about him and began his
+preparations for the greatest battle in Scottish history, the Battle of
+Bannockburn.
+
+As everyone knows, he routed the English at this famous battle. Never
+afterward would the great King give up!
+
+[Illustration: ALAN TELLS THE STORY OF KING BRUCE AND THE SPIDER]
+
+"So should we all feel, Ian," said Alan Craig as he finished his tale.
+
+"From the King to the spider!" Though Ian had heard the story often
+before, it now held a new meaning for him. He looked up at his father.
+
+Then he stood erect and called to his dog, "Come, Roy; we'll try
+again!"
+
+He was soon off through the hills once more.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+PIPERS AND TROUBLES
+
+
+At the beginning of that same summer, Jamie Robinson, Aberfoyle's
+piper, became restless. Jamie was not a steady man. He had never been a
+good provider. His poor wife and babies were often hungry and cold in
+the stormy winter months.
+
+Jamie Robinson earned his living by his piping. He marched back and
+forth through the village street, playing his bagpipes. He hoped that
+the noisy, celebrating crowds, which arrived from Glasgow, would like
+his music and throw him pennies.
+
+When the people were generous, his family might have a good dinner. But
+often Jamie Robinson did not bring the money home to his family.
+Unfortunately Jamie, who was a weak man, was often led by some of the
+village men into public houses. Here men gamble and drink.
+
+Sometimes poor Mrs. Robinson waited until very late for her husband to
+come home. When at last he arrived, he came penniless.
+
+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 pronounced
+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!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IAN TRIES AGAIN
+
+
+Ian was once more in search of Betty. The story of King Bruce echoed in
+his ears and spurred him on. Roy, too, seemed to be inspired with new
+hope. He sniffed and ran, and ran and sniffed. Every once in a while,
+he would let out short, sharp barks.
+
+"Do not weary yourself, lad," said Ian. "We have long to go this day,
+and we'll not give up."
+
+With these words the boy began to whistle. A happiness seemed to come
+suddenly to him as though he already had Betty safe in his arms.
+
+For many hours the boy and dog climbed and walked. At last they found
+themselves in a wild, rugged portion of the country, where Ian had
+never before been. Rocks were all about him. He descended into giant
+caverns.
+
+He called, "Betty!" and received only an echo for reply. He went
+farther until it was so late that he could not think of returning home.
+He would surely lose his way in the darkness, if he attempted it. So he
+curled himself up between two massive rocks and, with Roy nestling
+close to his side, fell fast asleep.
+
+[Illustration: IAN, BETTY AND ROY]
+
+At dawn, Ian was awakened by Roy. The dog was barking and making wild
+dashes in the direction of a large gulch near by.
+
+He ran madly to the gulch, then dashed back again to Ian. His barks
+came in hysterical gasps.
+
+Ian ran with Roy to the edge of the gulch. Looking down, the boy saw a
+terrible sight. Hanging on to a ragged ledge was a large mother sheep.
+It was one of his own father's, as he could see by the markings on the
+wool. The poor creature was bleating. A few feet above the ledge stood
+her baby lamb.
+
+At each of Roy's barks, the mother sheep gave a little jump, and the
+ledge of rock quivered. Ian thought surely it would break and the sheep
+would be dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
+
+"Down, down!" commanded Ian in the same voice as his father used to the
+dog.
+
+Roy crouched and whined, but stopped his barking. Ian remembered that
+some of the mother sheep distrusted the dog. So it would be impossible
+for Roy to show himself now. What must be done must be done by Ian
+himself.
+
+While the boy climbed down the precipitous rocks, the faithful dog,
+deprived of his rightful work, whined and howled. Had he not been
+trained to obey, he would never have stayed. But to a shepherd dog, a
+master's word is law. Roy watched his young friend as the boy made the
+perilous descent to rescue the terrified animal on the ledge.
+
+The sheep was large, and its wool weighed heavily. But Ian grasped the
+creature firmly. With all his might, he pulled until he had it on the
+rock above. When the baby lamb saw its mother coming, it uttered loud,
+joyous bleatings.
+
+Ian could only think that the sheep had been led astray by his father's
+new dog. He was worried for fear that there were others which had
+strayed beyond. He decided to see, and started off beyond the rock
+hill.
+
+But when Roy began to drive the mother sheep along, she became very
+angry. She ran at him with her head lowered. Roy could not manage her.
+She refused to obey him and Ian.
+
+The boy, who carried a crook like his father's, was forced to resort to
+the only means of bringing her to order. With a quick sweep of the
+crook, he caught the baby sheep. He lifted it in his arms.
+
+"Now, you'll come away," he said to the mother, as he walked on.
+Snorting, the mother sheep was forced to follow.
+
+On and on walked Ian and Roy. And now the hunt was not only for Betty,
+but for more of his father's herd. Ian thought he would find some that
+might have been led astray by the new dog.
+
+At noon he sat down to eat his "piece," which he carried in his
+sporran. When he had finished, he started for a clear stream near by.
+
+As he approached, he thought he saw one of the grayish rocks in the
+stream moving. He rubbed his eyes. Could it be a reflection from the
+water? No. It was moving slowly.
+
+Ian approached faster. What was his amazement at finding the gray rock
+to be his own Betty! It was his Betty, thin and ragged, and stumbling
+along on her front knees, too weak to raise her feet. Poor little
+beast!
+
+She was nearly dead. As Ian raised her up, he realized that he had
+found her just in time. The creature seemed to know the boy, for she
+nestled down in his arms as of yore. In spite of her suffering, she
+seemed perfectly happy, now that her Ian was found.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+SPRING
+
+
+Spring! Each day found an eager, watchful boy, a happy, sweet-faced
+sheep dog, and a large fleecy lamb standing on the Rob Roy Brig. They
+were awaiting in glad anticipation a visitor, who was expected and
+whose music would soon reach the happy ears of a future piper.
+
+Ian Craig had never allowed his Betty to roam after that frightful
+episode. She had been kept in a little corral, which Ian built for her.
+When he came home from school, he took her with him to the brig. He
+fastened her to a massive rock, while he awaited the return of Sandy.
+
+[Illustration: BETTY AWAITS SANDY'S RETURN]
+
+Betty was now almost as fat and big as the other sheep. She was a
+credit to the boy's good care. So proud of her was Ian that he often
+tied a lovely tartan ribbon about her neck. He combed her wool
+tenderly each day before he started off for the brig.
+
+Day after day, the two waited. Meanwhile, Roy looked on with kindly
+eyes, although he did not understand it all. Of course, Betty was
+equally ignorant of why she was made to pose with a floppy bow around
+her neck, tied to an annoying rock. But she was content, for Ian stayed
+beside her.
+
+Sometimes as Ian watched and waited, he thought he heard the bagpipes
+in the distance. And as he heard, his heart beat faster. The moment of
+bliss when he could claim his reward, seemed to be upon him.
+
+Then he often looked at Betty, and a qualm seized him. How could he
+part with the lamb? He had been through trouble and sorrow for the
+little animal. He had lived many happy hours by her side. It was as
+though she had become his own. The thought of parting from her was like
+a stab. Then, too, Betty loved him.
+
+At these times, the poor little boy would knit his brow and ponder upon
+the strangeness of life.
+
+Then he thought of the pipers and the tale of Dunblane, where the
+stalwart lads marched and played. He thought of the glorious piper
+bands marching in the big towns. The thought made him brighten and
+jump from the brig and scan the country for a sign of Sandy.
+
+But the days of budding blossoms and showers in Scotland wore on.
+Finally Betty's ribbon bow began to fade and Ian's patience to wear.
+
+Little Elsie Campbell used at times to walk with the boy to the brig.
+Often he stopped on the walk and talked to her, as he cocked his head
+on one side.
+
+"Do you not hear the din of pipes, Elsie?" he asked.
+
+And the wee lassie shook her head and said, "Ach, no, lad. 'Tis daft
+you are with your pipes!"
+
+But it was said kindly, for Elsie hoped and prayed that Sandy would
+return. You see, Ian had told her the story of Betty and how he waited
+for the promised pipes. It was, in fact, Elsie who had first tied the
+silken tartan ribbon about the lamb's neck.
+
+It was a gray day which promised rain. Ian and Betty neared the brig
+together. Ian had just tied the creature to her accustomed rock and was
+lifting himself to the wall when he heard a sound. Pipes! Unmistakably
+pipes!
+
+Still, he had been mistaken so often before that he dared not look. And
+Elsie was not there to-day. She would have told him. For in her ears
+the sound was not always droning as it had been in Ian's for many
+days.
+
+He had not told his mother for fear of worrying her. But his head was
+often heavy, and he could not sleep with the sound of the bagpipes.
+Poor little Ian! If only Sandy would return!
+
+On this dull, misty day as he swung his feet from the wall of the brig,
+Ian could not stop the sound. Nearer and nearer it came!
+
+Then, "Bonny laddie, Highland laddie," chanted the pipes. Ian looked up
+and saw standing before him his Sandy!
+
+Although he was as red and wrinkled and twinkling as before, there was
+a change. Sandy was very shabby. His coat was stained with the mud and
+rain of many hard days.
+
+He stopped his playing and stood before the boy. A sad, longing look
+came into his eyes.
+
+"Ian, lad," he said slowly, "'tis Sandy come back."
+
+And Ian suddenly realized that it was all true and not one of his
+dreams. He jumped down from the wall and threw his arms about Sandy.
+
+"Ach, Sandy," he cried. Then he stood back and pointed to the lamb.
+Evidently Sandy had not noticed it.
+
+"And do you not see our beastie, Sandy? 'Tis the same you left with me,
+and well and fat she is."
+
+Sandy turned and looked at Betty. But he did not talk as Ian had
+expected him to, nor did he compliment Ian on the lamb's well-being.
+He only stood fingering his pipes and slowly shaking his head.
+
+[Illustration: "SANDY HIMSELF WILL TEACH YOU TO PLAY"]
+
+As Ian stared in wonderment, the piper lifted his bagpipes from his
+shoulder and handed them to the boy.
+
+"Your pipes are here, lad, and Sandy keeps his promise!" he said.
+
+Without thinking Ian put out his arms to receive the instrument. His
+eyes, however, did not leave his friend's face.
+
+"But, Sandy, these are your own pipes you're giving me!" he said, as if
+he could hardly believe it, after looking down at what Sandy had placed
+in his arms.
+
+"Ay, lad," answered Sandy, "and now you can be a fine piper, and Sandy
+himself will teach you to play."
+
+Then Sandy told Ian the sad story of Jamie Robinson. He explained how
+he had sold nearly all his worldly goods to help the little family and
+put them on their feet again. He told of how he had left them
+comfortably settled near a prosperous village. He had made Jamie
+promise to work and save for his little brood.
+
+Sandy also told how he had come all the way to keep his promise to the
+boy. He said, too, that now, as in Aberfoyle there was no piper, he
+expected to stay here and take Jamie Robinson's place if Ian would lend
+him his pipes each day for awhile. And in return, he would teach the
+lad to play!
+
+"For I'm not so young as I was, laddie, and the wandering life is over
+for me," he added.
+
+When Ian heard these plans, he was beside himself with joy. He hugged
+first Sandy, then Roy, and then Betty. At last the piper became his old
+jolly self once more and laughed.
+
+"Ay, lad, we'll share the pipes together, though they belong to you.
+But old Sandy will have to make a living, and he'll teach you all the
+tunes he knows!"
+
+No happier boy than Ian Craig lived in Scotland that night. Standing
+before the door of the cottage, he puffed and blew on his pipes. There
+issued forth the sound of a thousand sheep all bleating at once but all
+in pain! Sandy listened from his tent on the hill opposite and chuckled
+to himself.
+
+Roy was also in pain as he listened. His delicate ears were unused to
+this shrieking and squealing. He joined in the din with loud howls.
+
+The baby within the house was in sympathy, too, and added her wails.
+
+So Sandy's first evening as a resident in Aberfoyle was not a quiet
+one. He was forced to stop his ears.
+
+Mrs. Craig was unable to stand the racket. So she pulled her puffing
+son into the house and packed him off to bed, to the great relief of
+all.
+
+[Illustration: THE SOUND OF HIS PIPES ECHOED BACK THROUGH THE GLEN]
+
+But Ian was a quick and hard-working pupil. It was not long before Roy
+quite approved of the sounds his master made on his pipes. He did not
+then feel it necessary to amend the melody.
+
+Also the baby gurgled with glee. She puffed out her cheeks in imitation
+of Ian and laughed happily. And Betty, the lamb, too, seemed to know
+that all was well. The world was in tune with the wee Scotch piper who
+had, at last, realized his dreams.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "'Tis the close of the day
+    At the foot of the ben,
+  And the sound of his pipes
+    Echoes back through the glen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER
+
+
+It was a cloudless day in the big Scotch city. The people seemed to
+feel that something unusual was about to happen. Everyone wore his
+best, and the city fairly shone with the reds and blues and greens of
+tartan kilts and bonnets.
+
+Soldiers paraded the streets. Children hurried along by their parents'
+sides, anxious to arrive at the big grand stand in time. Numerous
+bystanders flanked the wide street.
+
+All the people were breathless with excitement. Even the usual
+crowding traffic suspended its pushing and shrill tooting. For this
+was a great day in Scotland. Many celebrations occur at intervals in
+this land of excursions and picnics. But to-day was as the children
+would say, "extra special."
+
+The huge grand stand was overcrowded with eager Scotchmen, with their
+wives and bairns. They all strained their eyes for a glimpse of the
+great "kiltie band," which was to march down the street.
+
+Among those who watched, and perhaps the most eager of all, were a
+family of country folk. In bobbing black bonnet sat a calm-faced old
+lady. Beside her was a rugged old man. Both were in their best array.
+Both were longing for the sight they had come miles from their little
+farm to see.
+
+[Illustration: THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER]
+
+The couple were none other than Alan Craig and his wife. The sight that
+their old eyes would soon see, as the happy tears dimmed their view,
+would be their son, their Ian. He was now a tall, manly piper in kilted
+uniform, marching and piping with the flower of Scotland's army.
+
+By their side sat another. His kindly face shone with pride, and in his
+heart was a singing joy.
+
+For Sandy MacGregor had taught this lad to play. It was the same old
+pipes of Sandy MacGregor that he still used. He would soon show those
+pipes to a cheering crowd as his fingers flew over the chanter. While
+he played, his arm would shelter the tartan bellows once sheltered by
+Sandy's own arm as the old piper had wandered over hill and through
+dale.
+
+Sandy MacGregor had lived many years for this moment. As he craned his
+neck for a sight of the coming parade, he spoke to the little girl
+beside him.
+
+"See, Betty, 'tis they coming now."
+
+Betty, Ian's baby sister, was now a girl of the age Ian had been when
+first Sandy had met him.
+
+Together, Betty and Sandy had dreamed and planned the day when
+together they would view their piper laddie on parade.
+
+For Sandy had dwelt in the village of Aberfoyle these many years. While
+he had piped for his living, he had taught another piper, who was now
+to cover his old teacher with glory.
+
+In the large audience there was still another, whose blue eyes danced
+with joy. Her hands were clasped together with excitement as she
+awaited the approach of her boyhood friend. It was little Elsie
+Campbell, now grown to womanhood. Elsie was among those who thrilled to
+see the "wee Scotch piper," as he marched along that day.
+
+Who knows with what feelings of pride the lad looked up as he passed
+that grand stand? Who knows his feelings of love, on seeing those dear
+faces smiling and nodding at him?
+
+And as he marched and played, he seemed to see before him a little
+schoolboy marching and playing. That boy was himself, trudging the
+streets of a wee village, followed by a bleating lamb!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis
+
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+body {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
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+
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+hr.chap {width: 65%}
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+    .tdr      {text-align: right;}
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+
+/* Images */
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+    margin: auto;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+.figright   {
+    margin: auto;
+    text-align: right;
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+
+/* Transcriber's notes */
+.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
+    color: black;
+     font-size:smaller;
+     padding:0.5em;
+     margin-bottom:5em;
+     font-family:sans-serif, serif; }
+
+.center {text-align: center;} .heading
+{font-size: 1.5em;}
+.publisher {font-size: 1.5em;}
+.pub2 {font-size: 1.2em;}
+.pub3 {font-size: .8em;}
+
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+.poetry .verse { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; }
+.poetry .indent2 { text-indent: -2em;}
+@media handheld { .poetry { display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; } }
+.poetry-container { text-align: center; }
+.poetry { display: inline-block; text-align: left; }
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+Author: Madeline Brandeis
+
+Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40664]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Colin M. Kendall and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="416" height="600"
+ alt="The Wee Scotch Piper by Madeline Brandeis" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/endpapers.jpg" width="600" height="392"  alt="endpapers" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h1>The Wee Scotch Piper
+</h1>
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%">
+<img src="images/illus002.jpg" width="632" height="439"   alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<h2><i>The</i> WEE SCOTCH PIPER</h2>
+<p class="center">
+ <br />
+<small>BY</small><br />
+<span class="heading">MADELINE BRANDEIS</span></p>
+
+<h5><i>Producer of the Motion Pictures</i></h5>
+<p class="center" >
+"The Little Indian Weaver"<br />
+"The Wee Scotch Piper"<br />
+"The Little Dutch Tulip Girl"<br />
+"The Little Swiss Wood-Carver"
+</p>
+<h4>Distributed by Pathé Exchange, Inc., New York City</h4>
+<h5><i>Photographic Illustrations made in Scotland by the Author</i><br />
+<br /><br /><br /></h5>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</span><br />
+<span class="pub2">
+PUBLISHERS &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; NEW YORK</span><br />
+<span class="pub3">
+<i>by arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">
+COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY<br />
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>When I began to write these stories about children of
+all lands I had just returned from Europe whither I journeyed
+with Marie and Ref. Maybe you don't know Marie
+and Ref. I'll introduce them: Please meet Marie, my very
+little daughter, and Ref, my very big reflex camera.</p>
+
+<p>These two are my helpers. Marie helps by being a little
+girl who knows what other little girls like and by telling
+me; and Ref helps by snapping pictures of everything
+interesting that Marie and I see on our travels. I couldn't
+get along without them.</p>
+
+<p>Several years have gone by since we started our work
+together and Marie is a bigger girl&mdash;but Ref hasn't
+changed one bit. Ref hasn't changed any more than my interest
+in writing these books for you. And I hope that <i>you</i>
+hope that I'll never change, because I want to keep on
+writing until we'll have no more countries to write about&mdash;unless,
+of course, some one discovers a new country.</p>
+
+<p>Even if a new country isn't discovered, we'll find foreign
+children to talk about&mdash;maybe the children in Mars! Who
+knows? Nobody. Not even Marie&mdash;and Marie usually
+knows about most things. That's the reason why, you see,
+though I sign myself</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 100%">
+<img src="images/illus005.png" width="191" height="38"  alt="author's signature" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">
+I am really only<br />
+</p>
+<p class="right">
+Marie's Mother.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2>DEDICATION</h2>
+
+
+<div
+class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza"> <div class="verse">
+To every child of every land,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">
+  Little sister, little brother,</div>
+<div class="verse">
+As in this book your lives unfold,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">
+  May you learn to love each other.</div> </div></div> </div>
+<hr />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter I</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right">Page</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Craig Family</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter II</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Sandy's First Visit</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter III</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Pipers</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter IV</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Sandy Returns</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter V</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left" colspan="2">Through Scotland With Sandy</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter VI</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ian's Betty</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter VII</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left" colspan="2">Alan Craig Tells a Story</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter VIII</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left" colspan="2">Pipers and Troubles</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter IX</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ian Tries Again</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter X</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Spring</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="left">Chapter XI</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left" colspan="2">The Wee Scotch Piper</td><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr   />
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus010.jpg" width="619" height="429"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE SOUND OF HIS PIPES ECHOED BACK THROUGH THE GLEN</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>The Wee Scotch Piper</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CRAIG FAMILY</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the wee village of Aberfoyle,
+which is in Perthshire County, Scotland,
+lived Alan Craig, a shepherd.</p>
+
+<p>The sheep of Scotland, like the bagpipes
+and bluebells, are famous, and in
+Aberfoyle there are many.</p>
+
+<p>Dotted alongside the road are the
+bright bluebells, lighting up in true
+fairy array the darkness made by big,
+shady trees.</p>
+
+<p>Shrieking through the stillness of
+a summer evening, comes the sound
+of the bagpipes. This music is fur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>nished
+by a tattered piper marching
+up and down, up and down. He hopes
+that the people will throw pennies for
+the love of the tune he plays.</p>
+
+<p>And the sheep, like little dots of
+white in the green meadows, graze.
+But sometimes, they, too, shriek when
+they are herded together, perhaps for
+the clipping.</p>
+
+<p>When the sheep all bleat together,
+it sounds very much like the shrieking
+of the bagpipes. Maybe that is how
+the bagpipe was really started. Perhaps
+the sound was first uttered by a
+herd of Scotch sheep!</p>
+
+<p>It was not yet clipping time on the
+small farm of Alan Craig. His sheep
+still roamed the hills. Their heavy, curly wool weighed them down and
+made them look as if they had on
+long, woollen nighties.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The babies sometimes walked right
+under their mothers, and then they
+were completely hidden.</p>
+<div class="figcenter" >
+
+<img src="images/illus013.jpg" width="621" height="429"  alt="" />
+ <!--seeing if caption length  affects caption placement; artificial caption put in:
+<span class="caption">SCOTLAND&nbsp;IS&nbsp;FULL&nbsp;OF&nbsp;SHEEP</span>
+-->
+<span class="caption">SCOTLAND&nbsp;IS&nbsp;FULL&nbsp;OF&nbsp;SHEEP</span>
+</div>
+<p>On a hill sat Alan Craig, and by his
+side his faithful dog, Roy. Roy was a
+real sheep dog and was proud of his
+profession.</p>
+
+<p>You know, when people are called
+professionals, it means that they are
+trained in one occupation. Of course,
+people make money at their professions,
+and this was the only difference
+between Roy and a professional human.</p>
+
+<p>Roy was a professional sheep dog,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
+but he did his work out of devotion to
+his master. Also he did it because it
+was in his blood to love to race the
+timid sheep over the hills and obey his
+master's commands.</p>
+
+<p>"Back, Roy!" shouted Alan Craig.</p>
+
+<p>Roy jumped to his feet and, barking,
+ran to bring back the flock, which
+had disappeared around a rocky
+mountain.</p>
+
+<p>"Bowwow-wow!" The sheep heard
+him coming and, stupid creatures that
+they are, started to run the other way.
+"Bowwow!"</p>
+
+<p>"Down, sir, down!" came the voice
+of Alan Craig from afar, and Roy understood.</p>
+
+<p>Silently he made a dash for the lead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>ing
+sheep and, bounding ahead of the
+herd, he stood on guard. His feet
+were planted apart, and his tongue
+hung out. He was barking in his own
+language a short Scotch bark, which
+meant, "Now, will you go back?"</p>
+
+<p>All but the leading sheep began to
+turn. That leader was, however, a
+mother sheep with a loved baby. She
+had always been very suspicious of
+Roy.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he had once snapped at her
+baby, for he often had to do this to
+make the sheep behave. At any rate,
+the mother sheep could not forgive
+him. Without any fear, she now
+sprang toward Roy and butted her
+head in defiance.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus017.jpg" width="349" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE VILLAGE OF ABERFOYLE</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Roy stood his ground and then made
+a plunge at her legs. Meanwhile, he
+let out a shrill bark as one of her sharp
+horns hit his leg. It was a short but
+hard battle.</p>
+
+<p>At last Roy returned to his master,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+his tongue nearly sweeping the
+ground. But there was a triumphant
+expression in his eyes as he drove the
+crowd of panting sheep into a circle
+around Alan Craig and threw himself
+at his master's feet to await his reward.</p>
+
+<p>This was not long in coming. Alan
+Craig appreciated his helper. In fact
+Roy was really the shepherd. Alan
+had only to speak his commands&mdash;"work
+his dog," as the Scotch say&mdash;and
+Roy did the rest.</p>
+
+<p>Now he stroked his dog and said,
+"Good, Roy! Well done!"</p>
+
+<p>Alan's language was well understood
+by Roy, but these words would
+have sounded this way to you: "Gude,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+Roy! Weel dune!" had Alan spoken in
+the Scotch dialect to Roy.</p>
+
+<p>He could speak very good English,
+and did when he spoke to Englishmen.
+But you see, Roy was a Scotchman!</p>
+
+<p>From the little white cottage in the
+hollow came the smell of dinner&mdash;fresh
+pancakes and meat cooking.</p>
+
+<p>Alan picked up his crook&mdash;the kind
+that little Bopeep used&mdash;only Alan did
+not look like little Bopeep. Indeed,
+he was very different.</p>
+
+<p>He was a big strong man. Although
+we picture a Scotch shepherd dressed
+in kilts and socks and perhaps a tam,
+Alan Craig wore none of these. Kilts
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+and socks and tams are for the gentry,
+Alan would tell you, and shepherds
+are too poor to afford them.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus020.jpg" width="328" height="262"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">MRS. CRAIG AND IAN&#39;S BABY SISTER AT THE VILLAGE PUMP</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>So Alan wore an old suit which
+might have once been worn by your
+own father and then given away to
+some beggar. Alan was poor like most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+of the villagers, for Scotland is rather
+a poor country.</p>
+
+<p>Still, in the little village of Aberfoyle,
+everyone was happy. In the
+evenings the people from the big city
+of Glasgow came in big buses. They
+danced outside on the village green to
+the tune of the pipes, while they gloried
+in the fresh country air.</p>
+
+<p>So you must not think that Alan
+Craig and his family suffered. Indeed,
+there could hardly have been a happier
+little family in Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Alan wended his way
+homeward and was met by his wife
+and baby. If you have ever seen how
+an Indian mother carries her baby,
+then you will know how Mrs. Craig<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+carried hers. Only instead of carrying
+it on her back as the Indians do,
+she carried it in front wrapped securely
+in her plaid shawl.</p>
+
+<p>Her one arm was thus free, and she
+worked most of the day this way,
+while knowing and feeling her little
+one safe in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>The family sat down to dinner in
+their wee kitchen, for the farmers
+have no such luxury as a dining room.
+They started their soup, a thick broth
+made of barley and vegetables of all
+kinds. Mother Craig poured it out of
+the big tureen.</p>
+
+<p>Just at this time, the door burst
+open, and a ruddy-faced boy of ten
+years rushed into the room.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus023.jpg" width="359" height="293"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">IAN CRAIG</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Ian Craig, do you know the hour?"
+asked Mother Craig.</p>
+
+<p>The boy stood in the doorway and
+smiled at the family. He sniffed with
+delight the pleasant odor coming to
+him from the table.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ay, Mother," answered the boy.
+"Well do I know."</p>
+
+<p>Then he prepared to take his place
+at the table, with a gesture of rubbing
+his stomach in thinking of what
+was to be put inside.</p>
+
+<p>"What a bonny smell, Mother!" he
+continued. "And surely the taste is
+even bonnier!"</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the glib tongue you have, Ian
+Craig," laughed his father. "You
+could write poetry to the smell of a
+good dinner! And now, what have you
+to tell us to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, Ian was always full of stories
+and tales of adventure. He was one
+of those children to whom something
+exciting is always happening.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus025.jpg" width="344" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">ALAN CRAIG, IAN, AND ROY</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>So the family were quite accustomed
+to having him return home
+with vivid tales. Some were strange,
+some droll and, alas, some sad and
+painful, told to the tune of bandages
+and arnica.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Still, what boy is not sometimes
+hurt? And Ian's accidents were few,
+in comparison to his other experiences.
+Surely, it is to be wondered
+how, in a small, quiet town like Aberfoyle,
+so many wondrous happenings
+could occur.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Ian was doubted, not,
+however, by his parents, who knew
+that their son was truthful. The
+schoolmaster knew it, too, and was
+proud of Ian, whose stories and poems
+were the best in his class.</p>
+
+<p>One day he was recounting to a group of spellbound school children his
+experiences of the day. He was relating what wondrous happenings had
+befallen him, when he was inter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>rupted by a boy who shouted, "Ian Craig
+is telling lies!"</p>
+
+<p>The boy was a year older than Ian,
+but he was never known to make
+sport of Ian again. Nor did Ian ever
+admit to his parents how it happened
+that he arrived home from school that
+day with a swollen eye.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus027.jpg" width="172" height="143"  alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>SANDY'S FIRST VISIT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Aberfoyle is the center of the "Rob
+Roy country." Rob Roy MacGregor
+was, as every child knows, a great
+Scotch warrior and represented one
+of the oldest Highland clans.</p>
+
+<p>In Aberfoyle, where Ian Craig lived,
+stands the old house in which Sir Walter
+Scott wrote his famous story "Rob
+Roy." To-day it houses the village
+minister.</p>
+
+<p>Near by is a tumble-down thatched
+cottage known as "Jean McAlpin's
+Inn," where Rob Roy was wont to
+rest.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus029.jpg" width="352" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE &quot;ROB ROY BRIG&quot; AND THE HOUSE
+WHERE WALTER SCOTT WROTE &quot;ROB ROY&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>A landmark in the village is the old
+"Rob Roy Brig." Here on the old brig
+(which means "bridge" in Scotch) Ian
+would sit when school was out and his
+chores at home were finished.</p>
+
+<p>Something usually happened when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+he sat here, and many of his experiences
+had started from this bridge.
+Often, while he waited for adventure,
+Ian fished from the bridge. He
+brought home fine, fat morsels, for
+the river Forth, which flows beneath
+the bridge, is rich in fish.</p>
+
+<p>But Ian's dearest memory was of
+Sandy. The Sandy adventure had
+taken place almost a year before, but
+it was as vivid in Ian's mind as though
+it had all occurred the day before.</p>
+
+<p>It happened while Ian was fishing
+from the brig. He heard the sound of
+bagpipes&mdash;a sound that is nothing unusual
+to hear in Scotland. Still it always
+made Ian joyous and sad at once.
+And now he turned to listen.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus031.jpg" width="352" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">SANDY <span class="smcap">MacGREGOR</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>This playing was the loveliest he
+had ever heard. Jamie Robinson
+played almost every night in front of
+the old hotel, and Ian loved the music.
+But this playing was different. He
+had always thought Jamie's playing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+good, but he now wondered how he
+could ever have thought so.</p>
+
+<p>This tune was from far away, but it
+carried across the meadow and along
+the road. And then he saw Sandy!
+Sandy was standing still in the middle
+of the road while he played.</p>
+
+<p>By his side was a handcart, and Ian
+knew at once what it meant. Sandy
+was a wandering piper, a man who
+has no home, a gypsy. He piped for
+his living and camped on the road.</p>
+
+<p>Many pipers passed through Aberfoyle,
+some with large families. In
+fact, Jamie was one of them, only
+Jamie did not travel. He lived in the
+woods near Aberfoyle in a tent with
+his wife and babies.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus033.jpg" width="341" height="270"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">GYPSIES OF THE HIGHWAY</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But no one had ever played like this
+before. Ian ran up the road. As he
+approached the newcomer, he could
+see that the piper was a little old man.
+He had a kindly, wrinkled face, and
+twinkling eyes which winked at Ian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+as the boy came closer. Then suddenly
+he changed his tune.</p>
+
+<p>"Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,"
+shrieked the pipes.</p>
+
+<p>Ian stopped in front of the piper
+and thought he should cry. The music
+ceased.</p>
+
+<p>A hand was laid on Ian's shoulder,
+and a voice asked, "And why, laddie,
+do you stand and look with eyes so big
+and sad?"</p>
+
+<p>Ian then realized that he had been
+staring as if in a trance. He brought
+himself back to earth, smiled, and put
+out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, sir. I was only admiring
+your bonny piping!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ach!" laughed the piper. "And I was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+only admiring the bonny laddie!
+What's your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ian Craig."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus035.jpg" width="350" height="289"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">&quot;MA NAME&#39;S SANDY!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"And mine's Sandy. You may call
+me Sandy, though my name's really
+Evert Robert MacKeith MacGregor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
+and my great-grandfather was a
+cousin to the great Rob Roy."</p>
+
+<p>With these words, Sandy MacGregor
+put his pipes into his cart.
+Then, slinging the rope over his shoulders,
+he started to pull his load along,
+while Ian kept step with him.</p>
+
+<p>"And a fine village this is&mdash;the scene
+of my ancestor's home! Do you live
+here, my lad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, Sandy, and not far from old
+Rob Roy Brig."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," sighed Sandy. "And
+could we bide a wee on the old brig of
+my ancestor while Sandy rests?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, could we," said Ian with great
+delight, "and I can pull your cart for
+you, Sandy, until we get there."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gratefully the old man allowed the
+boy to pull his load, while he stretched
+his tired arms. He breathed in the
+sweet-smelling air of the village of
+his ancestor.</p>
+
+<p>When they came to the bridge, Ian
+put down the cart. He invited Sandy
+to sit beside him on the wall, his usual
+perch. The old man jumped up to the
+boy's side, as spry as the boy himself,
+and looked around.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," he said, "and to think
+'tis Sandy's first visit to the home of
+his ancestor&mdash;Sandy who has been
+nigh all over the land!"</p>
+
+<p>At these words Ian's heart gave a
+bound, and he said, "Have you seen
+nigh all of bonny Scotland, Sandy?"</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus038.jpg" width="458" height="587"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">SANDY TELLS THE LAD ABOUT BONNY SCOTLAND</p>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that have I, lad, and traveled
+on my own two feet through it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Sandy," said Ian wistfully, "would
+you be telling me about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, ay, laddie," smiled the old
+wanderer. "That would I, for 'tis
+many a fine sight these old eyes have
+seen."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy talked, and the boy listened.
+The sun grew lower and lower in the
+heavens. Ian Craig thought that
+never before had he known an afternoon
+to slip by so quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy told Ian about the time he
+had visited Edinburgh, Scotland's
+capital, and one of the most attractive
+cities in the world.</p>
+
+<p>He told of Princes Street, with its
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+sunken gardens on one side, and its
+wonderful view of historic Edinburgh
+Castle, its pretty shops and
+stately monuments. It is considered
+by many to be the most beautiful
+street in all the world.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus040.jpg" width="360" height="289"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH</p>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On the top of a winding hill is Edinburgh
+Castle. Here, in the courtyard
+of the old castle is Half-Moon Battery,
+where is kept the one-o'clock gun.</p>
+
+<p>This gun fires every day at the hour
+of one. It is attached by electric wire
+to the time ball on the top of Nelson's
+Monument on Carlton Hill opposite.
+This ball falls, in turn, at a signal from
+Greenwich Observatory, near London,
+where is set the time for the whole
+world.</p>
+
+<p>In another part of the castle
+grounds can be found a pathetic little
+plot of ground known as "The Dogs'
+Cemetery." Here are buried the pets
+of the soldiers who fought in the
+World War.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus042.jpg" width="355" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE DOGS&#39; CEMETERY</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Many of these little beasts were
+gallant heroes and were buried with
+great reverence. Lovely flowers decorate
+their graves, and inscriptions
+tell of each one's valor.</p>
+
+<p>But to one little dog in particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+was a fountain erected. It stands
+in one of the streets of Edinburgh.
+This fountain represents "Greyfriars'
+Bobby," as the little dog was called.</p>
+
+<p>He was given this name because it
+was to the old Greyfriars Churchyard
+that he went, day after day, to seek
+his master, who was buried there. The
+caretakers of the cemetery tried to
+keep him out.</p>
+
+<p>Still day after day he came. He
+always lay upon the grave of his master
+and grieved, until one day they
+found him dead. And now the fountain
+is there to remind the people of
+this faithful little creature.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>PIPERS</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Do you think my dog would grieve
+if I should die?" asked Ian, as he
+brushed away a tear with his sleeve
+and tried to distract Sandy's attention
+from his action.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, if you treat him kindly, lad,"
+answered the old man. "Beasties are
+faithful to us when they know we love
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," said Ian. "Roy is faithful, and
+a smart sheep dog, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like fine to herd the sheep,
+laddie?" asked Sandy.</p>
+
+<p>Ian hung his head.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, Sandy. I like finer to go about
+and have adventures and make up
+that I am&mdash;" He hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"What, lad? Speak. Do not be
+afraid of Sandy for he knows the
+hearts of laddies well."</p>
+
+<p>"If I could play the pipes, Sandy, I
+would go away and be a piper in the
+band some day," confessed Ian.</p>
+
+<p>This was, indeed, a dream so near to
+his heart that he had never before
+spoken it aloud. After the admission,
+Ian turned his head away and did not
+look at Sandy. But the old man's voice
+was very soft and his tone caressing,
+as he said, "And a fine dream it is, Ian
+lad, for to be a piper is a great and
+honored calling."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ay," answered Ian huskily, "but
+'tis not for me, Sandy."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy turned the boy around then
+and looked him squarely in the eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Ian, lad, do not speak so, for nothing
+is too hard to get when you want
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Ian's eyes lighted up for a moment.
+Then the same forlorn look came into
+them as he let his head droop.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Sandy. The pipes are too dear,
+and it takes many months to learn to
+play."</p>
+
+<p>"And you study hard at school,
+lad?" asked the piper.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, do I," spoke the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Then some day, you'll be liking to
+hear of the fine military school I saw."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus047.jpg" width="644" height="442"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE PIPER LADDIES</p>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ach, Sandy, tell me about it. Have
+you really seen it?" Ian was at once
+alert.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that have I, and only three
+weeks ago when I was passing by
+Dunblane."</p>
+
+<p>As the poor little village lad drank
+in his words, Sandy talked on about
+the wonderful school in Dunblane.
+This school is called the Queen Victoria
+School. Here lads between the
+ages of nine and fifteen are trained as
+soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>They are sons of military men, some
+of whom fell in the World War. These
+boys are reared and taught free of
+charge. It is a great and good school
+for a boy to attend.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus049.jpg" width="349" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE DRUM MAJOR</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>To see and hear these sons of Scotland's
+heroes is an experience never
+to be forgotten. They present a fine
+appearance in their bright-colored
+kilts and military trappings, as they
+march and play upon their pipes.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sandy saw and heard, and carried
+away with him a memory of the loveliest
+sight and sound imaginable.
+Coming toward him were boys. Children
+they were, with their kilts making
+a vivid pattern.</p>
+
+<p>Their bare knees moved in perfect
+unison as they stepped to the tunes of
+Scotland's patriotic melodies. They
+played in a way unsurpassed by pipers
+older and more experienced than they.</p>
+
+<p>First came a waltz, gracefully
+played and gracefully stepped. Then
+came a march, loud, fast, but always
+in perfect harmony. The sound might
+have come from a single organ played,
+perhaps, by Scottish cherubim.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+<p>The drum major wore a plumed helmet
+ and carried a baton. He was only
+fourteen years old, but he twirled his
+stick and marched like a veteran of
+many wars.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus051.jpg" width="353" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE DRUMMER BOY</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The little twelve-year-old drummer
+swung his drumsticks into the air and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+caught them again. He never missed
+a beat on his drum. The rest, pipers
+all, marched and played. Their cheeks
+puffed in and out, while their fingers
+moved and made melodies.</p>
+
+<p>Throughout the hills echoed the
+sound. It was the same as echoed
+during the Battle of Bannockburn,
+when Scottish history was made. To
+these tunes, in this same rugged country
+marched, years ago, these lads'
+ancestors.</p>
+
+<p>And Sandy carried his memories of
+Queen Victoria School back to Ian
+Craig. Ian's longing to become a piper
+grew greater as he listened. In his
+heart he uttered a silent prayer.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>SANDY RETURNS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Though his meeting with Sandy had
+happened many months before, neither
+the memory of Sandy nor of the
+pipers had dimmed in Ian's mind.
+Through his hours of work and play
+his thoughts turned to marching Highland
+laddies and shrieking pipes.</p>
+
+<p>He would often imagine himself as
+one of their number. Indeed, often
+on his walks to school he would "make
+believe," as so many children call it.
+People would turn to see why the little
+boy in kilts marched so straight
+and puffed his cheeks out.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ian wore kilts, though his father
+did not. Many of the children went
+to school in their kilts. Yet many
+could not afford to do this and wore
+them only on Sundays.</p>
+
+<p>Ian, however, had a school kilt and a
+Sunday kilt and was very proud of
+his wardrobe. One of the main reasons
+for his pride lay in the fact that
+in kilts he could better imagine himself
+a piper.</p>
+
+<p>Marching alone one morning, he met
+Elsie. Elsie was only a wee lass, far
+younger than Ian. But she liked the
+tall boy who always smiled at her and
+who walked so straight.</p>
+
+<p>Ian liked Elsie better than the other
+lassies, who did not understand, as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
+Elsie did, the importance and grandeur
+of pipers. Besides, the others
+were either too freckled, or their
+cheeks too red.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus055.jpg" width="362" height="289"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">IAN&#39;S SCHOOL</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Some Scotch children have the complexions
+of bright sunsets. Ian liked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+Elsie's bonny face, with the few little
+freckles on her nose, and her sunny
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>This morning Elsie overtook him as
+he was marching to his own silent
+drone of pipes.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not march so, Ian. The children
+will be laughing at you when you
+reach the school. I heard them saying
+you're daft about pipers, and I
+thought I'd tell you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Ian looked down into the little
+maiden's blue eyes. She, too, was
+dressed in a kilt. She wore over it a
+red jersey.</p>
+
+<p>Unlike Ian, she did not have the
+sporran. That is what the Scotch call
+the piece of fur hanging down in front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
+of the kilt. Each child's kilt was, however,
+pinned on the side with a large
+safety pin&mdash;which is the style in wearing
+kilts.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus057.jpg" width="281" height="222"  alt="" title="" />
+<p class="caption">KILTED SCHOOL CHILDREN</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Elsie's hair was done in two braids,
+which hung down her back. Though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+he resented what she told him, Ian
+thought she was very sweet. For she
+looked at him in a way that made his
+resentment soon fade.</p>
+
+<p>Smiling, he said, "Thanks, Elsie. I'll
+not march now."</p>
+
+<p>Silently they walked together. Ian
+was very near telling his little friend
+about his dreams.</p>
+
+<p>But while he was weighing the
+probable outcome of such a move, the
+school bell rang. It was half past
+nine, the time that school in Scotland
+starts in the springtime. Ian and
+Elsie ran.</p>
+
+<p>At one o'clock, Ian went home to his
+lunch. Elsie stayed, for her home
+was far away. She brought her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+"piece," which is what the Scotch children
+call their lunch. No doubt the
+word refers to their piece of bread,
+which, with an apple, is sometimes all
+they get.</p>
+
+<p>At home, Ian's mother always had
+waiting for him a plate of Scotch
+broth, potatoes, and sometimes an
+apple tart. After school Ian was
+drawn to the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>The work at home was not pressing
+to-day. Father was away with the
+sheep. Mother did not need Ian. His
+heart was light as he started off for
+the old brig. He walked along with
+the hope of adventure, while in his
+ears the imaginary sound of pipes
+played.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ian, wait," called Elsie, and ran
+after him.</p>
+
+<p>Ian stopped and remembered that
+he had almost told her. How could a
+wee lass like that understand? No.
+He would not speak. What was more,
+he would not let her come along, for
+he knew that was what she wanted
+to do.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going fishing from the
+brig?" asked Elsie blithely.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," answered Ian sulkily, as he
+stepped ahead of her.</p>
+
+<p>"May I go with you, Ian?" queried
+the small girl.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Elsie. You're too wee for fishing,
+and you scare the fish."</p>
+
+<p>Elsie's lip quivered. Ian feared she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+would cry right out on the road. Then
+what would he do?</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, don't cry, lass. Run home to
+your mother, for 'tis late for you to
+be out, and she'll be worried."</p>
+
+<p>It was all said kindly but much too
+eagerly. Elsie, who was keen, did not
+doubt for a moment that she was not
+wanted.</p>
+
+<p>She ran off, while Ian, with a sigh&mdash;sad
+to say, of relief&mdash;ran to his home.
+He kissed his mother, took down his
+fishing rod, and was off for fish and
+dreams.</p>
+
+<p>At the bridge, adventure indeed
+awaited him, had he but known. He
+settled himself in his favorite place
+and threw his line down into the river.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+Little did he suspect what was to
+happen.</p>
+
+<p>Singing to himself, he waited. A
+tug on his line! So soon? Ah, the fish
+were biting well to-day. Mother would
+be pleased. What a big fish and how it
+pulled! Ian struggled for several
+minutes, and then up came his prize.</p>
+
+<p>But what sort of fish was this? It
+looked like a fuzzy ball of brown fur.
+As it came up closer, Ian saw that it
+was a bear&mdash;a toy bear. It was undoubtedly
+the property of a certain
+Elsie Campbell!</p>
+
+<p>"Out, you wee devil, out!" cried Ian,
+standing up and looking down under
+the bridge for his tormentor.</p>
+
+<p>There she was, and her laugh was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
+most annoying to Ian. He was scolding,
+and at the same time trying to
+undo the hook from the toy bear's fur.</p>
+
+<p>"Come up here, you wee devil!" repeated
+Ian furiously.</p>
+
+<p>Up came the culprit. Ian had to
+join in her laughter, though he shook
+his finger at her the while. She sat
+down beside him happily.</p>
+
+<p>"Ian, do you believe in the devil?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, do I," he answered. "'Tis yerself."</p>
+
+<p>"No." Elsie shook her head seriously.
+"Do you know, I believe 'tis
+like Santa Claus. 'Tis your own
+father!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, Elsie," laughed Ian, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+child's idea. "You know that Santa
+Claus brings you dolls and toy bears
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Ian did not go on to complete the
+list, for just then he heard a sound
+that made his heart beat faster.
+Jumping down from the wall, he
+looked up the road. Coming toward
+him was Sandy!</p>
+
+<p>How Elsie ever disappeared Ian
+never knew. Disappear she did
+quickly. Afterwards, when Ian
+thought it over, it seemed that fairies
+had snatched her away.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever happened, she was not
+there when Sandy and Ian greeted
+each other. It was probably her
+woman's instinct, which bade her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+leave these two to their men's affairs!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus065.jpg" width="350" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">SANDY ARRIVES</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>How happy was Ian as his kind old
+friend seated himself by Ian's side
+with the same boyish leap!</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Ian, lad," said Sandy, "the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+same bonny Aberfoyle, the same bonny laddie! And do you have the same
+bonny dreams?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, Sandy, more than ever before.
+And have you traveled far since last
+I saw you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that have I, and many's the
+tale I'll tell you this day. But first I
+must show you something."</p>
+
+<p>Beckoning Ian to his cart, Sandy
+pointed to a bundle wrapped up in his
+coat.</p>
+
+<p>Tenderly unwrapping it, the old
+piper pulled out a young lamb, dirty,
+thin, and bleating.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a poor hurt beastie, Ian," he
+said. "I found it on the road. Its
+mother is dead, and it was left to die,
+too. I picked it up and now cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+care for it, as I'm wandering and have
+no place to keep it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, Sandy, couldn't I keep the wee
+beastie for you?" asked Ian eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy stroked his chin thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You could, laddie. But 't would be
+a while till I return&mdash;maybe not till
+next spring. And a lamb with no
+mother is a care."</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, Sandy," cried the boy, "let me
+do it for you. I could feed it with my
+wee sister's nursing bottle."</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, ay, laddie! Your mother
+would like that fine!" laughed Sandy.
+"But," he continued soberly, "if you
+would keep the wee creature, I could
+give you something for your trouble."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, Sandy. I would keep it for
+you, and gladly."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy was still dubious. He was
+worried for fear the boy's father
+would object to a charge of this kind.
+The lamb would need tender nursing
+and careful watching.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes small boys grow careless,
+although their intentions are of
+the best. Then the task falls to Father
+or Mother.</p>
+
+<p>As Sandy was revolving these
+thoughts in his mind, he suddenly
+had a plan.</p>
+
+<p>"Ian," he said, "do you remember
+the story I told you of the pipers at
+Dunblane?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of little else, Sandy,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+replied Ian, as he stroked the lamb.
+The little creature was nestling down
+comfortably in Sandy's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, lad, uncover the plaid on my
+cart and see what I have there."</p>
+
+<p>Ian turned back the bit of plaid covering
+the cart. Sandy used it to
+protect his personal belongings.</p>
+
+<p>"Two sets o' pipes, Sandy!" exclaimed
+Ian.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay! One was given me by a man
+for a service. It is not so bonny as
+mine but might do for a laddie learning
+to play!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sandy, do you mean&mdash;?" Ian cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lad. In the spring when I return,
+if this wee beastie is fine, and
+you have done your duty like a true
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
+shepherd, then you shall have the
+pipes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sandy, Sandy, is it true? May I be
+a piper and play the pipes like the
+laddies in Dunblane? Ach, Sandy!"</p>
+
+<p>Ian was almost mad with joy. For
+a moment he forgot what service he
+was to render in return for this great
+reward. But remembering his charge,
+he carefully lifted the little lamb out
+of Sandy's arms.</p>
+
+<p>He held it tenderly in his own, and
+said, "You'll find the wee beastie well
+and fat when you return in the spring,
+Sandy."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>THROUGH SCOTLAND WITH SANDY</h3>
+
+
+<p>The warm air of spring was pleasant.
+The Craig family's supper was
+spread out before the door of their
+cottage. They ate outdoors so that
+they could enjoy the beauties of the
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>It would not be dark here until very
+late. Ian's father could sit before his
+cottage door, reading his paper by
+daylight until almost eleven o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was only seven. Mrs. Craig
+was ringing a bell, which echoed
+through the hills.</p>
+
+
+<p>This was the way she called her husband
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+ and son to the evening meal.</p>
+
+<p>Toward her came Ian, and some one
+was with him. Mrs. Craig strained
+her eyes to see, but she could not
+make out the stranger's figure.</p>
+
+<p>As they came closer, Ian ran toward
+his mother, calling, "Mother, I've
+brought Sandy to tea!"</p>
+
+<p>The old piper politely removed his
+cap and stood before Ian's mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Your son has brought home an old
+traveler, mistress," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Craig smiled and, shaking
+Sandy's hand, said, "And glad I am,
+for a friend of Ian's is welcome to the
+house of his mother. Sit down, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Ian told his mother the story of the
+lamb.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus073.jpg" width="347" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">BARRIE&#39;S &quot;WINDOW IN THRUMS&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He explained how, if he performed
+his task, he would by next spring be
+the owner of bagpipes.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Craig smiled at Sandy and said,
+"You trust the laddie, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Sandy MacGregor replied, "Ay; for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+will he not be a piper in the band one
+fine day?"</p>
+
+<p>Alan Craig and Roy soon returned,
+and Sandy was introduced to them.</p>
+
+<p>After the little repast, Ian beckoned
+Sandy to him. Nodding his head toward
+the hills, he said, "Come away
+and tell now about your travels
+through Scotland, Sandy."</p>
+
+<p>The two sat on the hill and watched
+the smoke curling up from the cottage
+chimney. And while Sandy
+smoked his pipe he told Ian once
+more of his wondrous adventures.</p>
+
+<p>Traveling through Scotland is like
+going through many different countries.
+For Scotland's beauties are
+varied. Here in the hollow is a lovely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+quaint village. Its thatched roofs and
+white walled cottages make a picture
+sweet to behold.</p>
+
+<p>As you go along, soon you pass the
+peaceful, hilly country and come to
+rocky, steep, and rugged land. You
+might be in the mountains, for it is
+wild and desolate except for the
+sheep, which are everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>Around a corner, another village
+looms into space. This one is cold and
+bleak. You pass through it without
+sight or sound of human beings. Its
+buildings are tall, stony, and gray. In
+the center is a pump, where the people
+come to draw their water, but no
+one is about.</p>
+
+<p>With a shiver you pass on. As you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+gradually leave the village behind,
+you find yourself again in pastoral
+land. Thatched cottages come into
+view. Bluebells begin to dot the road.
+How sweet is the smell of hay and
+cows and clover!</p>
+
+<p>Once more a village, and now you
+wonder whether this can be the same
+country. For in the narrow streets
+are children, dogs, women, peasants,
+bicyclists, and more children.</p>
+
+<p>Little girls walk along knitting.
+Everyone is walking in the middle of
+the cobbled street. Sandy has difficulty
+in going through the crowd with
+his cart.</p>
+
+<p>This is Kurrimuir, better known as
+Thrums. It is the scene of many of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+J. M. Barrie's delightful stories. Here
+on the corner is the dear little cottage
+made famous by Barrie's "A Window
+in Thrums."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus077.jpg" width="347" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">BOYS PLAY CRICKET IN SCOTLAND</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Passing a field, Sandy stops to
+watch some boys playing cricket. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+game is very popular in Scotland. All
+the boys play it, just as American
+boys play baseball.</p>
+
+<p>Doune Castle! Sandy climbs over
+the fence and starts up toward the
+towering mass of rock. He thinks of
+the many battles fought around this
+ancient stronghold. It was here that
+King Robert Bruce made some of
+Scotland's history.</p>
+
+<p>Stirling Castle! Another massive
+stone memorial of the days of Scotland's
+stormy wars.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy passes on until he comes to
+the city of Perth. Here he stops before
+the old, old house in which lived
+"The Fair Maid of Perth," made famous
+by Sir Walter Scott.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus079.jpg" width="352" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">DOUNE CASTLE</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In St. Andrews is the oldest golf
+links in the world. From everywhere
+people come to play the royal and
+ancient game. It is said that no course
+is at all like the old course at St. Andrews.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As you perhaps know, golf originated
+in Scotland. St. Andrews is the
+place where it started. Some say that
+it was first begun by the shepherds. It
+is thought that they used to knock
+small stones with their crooks as they
+strolled behind their sheep.</p>
+
+<p>On went Sandy to Melrose. He
+passed the Eildon Hills where King
+Arthur and his knights are supposed
+to be buried. This is the spot where,
+'tis said, Sir Walter Scott used to stop
+his horses every day.</p>
+
+<p>He paused here because he loved to
+look at the glorious view behind. His
+horses knew the spot so well that they
+would stop here of their own accord.
+On the day of Sir Walter's funeral,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+when they were taking his body to the
+Abbey, the horses stopped once more.</p>
+
+<p>In Alloway is the house where the
+great Scotch poet, Robert Burns,
+lived. Every day it is shown to hundreds
+of visitors, who pay to go in and
+look at the curious old place.</p>
+
+<p>Its quaint furniture and interesting
+manuscripts and pictures are all connected
+with the beloved poet. In the
+gardens are statues representing
+many of the characters in Burns'
+poems. "Poosie Nancy," "Tam O'
+Shanter," and many others are there.</p>
+
+<p>Another town made famous by a
+Scottish character is Maxwelltown, or
+Maxwelton, where Annie Laurie lived.</p>
+
+<p>Passing an ancient graveyard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+Sandy stops to marvel at some huge
+slabs of iron. These are still kept to
+show how, in the seventeenth century,
+the dead were held down in their
+graves.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus082.jpg" width="358" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE HOME OF &quot;THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>These heavy slabs were put on top<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+of the dead. This was done to keep
+them from being dug up by robbers.
+The thieves would steal and sell them
+to doctors and medical students.</p>
+
+<p>The signing of the Covenant was to
+Scotland what the signing of the Declaration
+of Independence was to
+America. It was the beginning of
+freedom!</p>
+
+<p>James VI of Scotland tried to force
+the people into his own religious beliefs.
+They refused to be led. On the
+first day of March, 1768, in the Old
+Greyfriars Churchyard, the Covenant
+was signed.</p>
+
+<p>The signing was done on a flat
+gravestone, which is there to this day.
+And so, just as America has a Liberty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
+Bell, Scotland has a Liberty Stone.</p>
+
+<p>As Sandy's old handcart rattles
+through each little Scottish town, he
+is impressed with the many bookshops
+he sees in his country. The
+Scotch are enthusiastic readers. Their
+love and desire for education are national
+traits.</p>
+
+<p>Often Sandy passes young boys or
+young girls sitting by the roadside,
+absorbed in their books. The colleges
+and schools of Scotland are fine indeed.</p>
+
+<p>When Sandy asks a direction, he is
+sure to receive a courteous reply. The
+children who come to his side are
+polite and kind and anxious to help.
+They will gladly do what they can for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+a stranger and do not ask any pay in
+return.</p>
+
+<p>Over many stores and buildings
+Sandy reads names which start with
+"Mac," such as MacNiel and MacKenzie.
+He smiles as he thinks about
+these names. He knows that these
+people, like himself, are the descendants
+of the old clan leaders.</p>
+
+<p>They gave the name "Mac," which
+means "son of," to their children. So,
+if a clan leader was named Gregor,
+the children of his clan would be MacGregor.
+In the olden days, the word
+"clan," which comes from an old Gaelic
+word meaning "children," was like a
+great family. Their chief was like a
+father, whom they all obeyed.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>To-day, you no doubt know people
+named MacDonald, MacRae, etc.
+These are the descendants of the
+"clansmen," as they were called.</p>
+
+<p>Each clan has a tartan of its own. A
+tartan is what you would probably
+call plaid. It is the heathery mixture
+of many colors and designs.</p>
+
+<p>Each tartan is different from every
+other. To-day in Scotland you will see
+the children wearing kilts or ties or
+tams made of their own family tartan.</p>
+
+<p>The town of Paisley is famous for
+its Paisley shawls. These are very
+much admired by all the world and
+worn by ladies of fashion.</p>
+
+<p>The Shetland shawls, also famous,
+are dear to old ladies, because they
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+are soft and warm. The Shetland
+ponies are dear to children, for they
+are so little that they are more like
+large dogs than like horses. Both
+come from the Shetland Islands, which
+are north of Scotland and are ruggedly
+wild.</p>
+
+<p>Through all of Sandy's travels he
+never saw the thistle, which is supposed
+to grow so thickly in Scotland.
+The thistle, as you perhaps know, is
+used on Scottish crests and banners.
+No doubt it existed, long ago, but to-day
+it is nowhere to be found.</p>
+
+<p>Here is Loch Drunkie, a queer name
+with a queer history. It was on the
+shores of this lake that men made
+whisky&mdash;which was against the law.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One day the men saw officers of the
+law coming toward them. They knew
+that they would be arrested if they
+were found out. To avoid arrest, they
+emptied their whisky into the lake.
+People say that the waters have remained
+half whisky from that day to
+this.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy jogs along toward Aberfoyle.
+It is the day he delivers his injured
+lamb to the mercies of his young
+friend. During this time, he passes
+another "loch," the well known and
+much beloved "Loch Lomond."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy stops on the shore. He gazes
+below on the shining blue waters, upon
+which ply the tiny white steamers.
+He shoulders his bagpipes and plays<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+the melody known in every clime, "On
+the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond."
+Here the fairies were wont
+to dwell. A tale is told of fairy dyers,
+who worked for the clans of Loch
+Lomond in the days of yore.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus089.jpg" width="343" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">&quot;ON THE BONNY, BONNY BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND&quot;</p>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A joke was once played upon the
+wee elfin folk by a boy. The lad asked
+to have the fleece of a black sheep
+dyed white. Angered by this request,
+the fairies overturned their pots of
+dye into the lake and never more returned.</p>
+
+<p>But the color from their dye turned
+the lake an unearthly shade of blue.
+This color is different from that of all
+other lakes, and thus it has remained.</p>
+
+<p>Again Sandy pipes:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse">"For me and ma true love will never meet again</div>
+        <div class="verse">On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond."</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>IAN'S BETTY</h3>
+
+
+<p>For many weeks after Sandy's departure
+from Aberfoyle, Ian tended
+the lamb carefully. He fed it from a
+baby's bottle. The young creature
+grew strong and fat. It would follow
+the boy around as though it knew him
+to be its nurse.</p>
+
+<p>It was a loving little animal, and Ian
+became very fond of it. He would
+take it with him when he sat with his
+father upon the hill where Roy
+guarded the other sheep.</p>
+
+<p>It did not mingle with the others,
+for it was an orphan. It knew that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+did not belong with the flock. Sheep
+are not like people. Human beings,
+seeing a motherless child, would
+strive to protect it with their own
+young ones.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus092.jpg" width="336" height="262"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">IAN FED BETTY FROM A NURSING BOTTLE</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>So the task of protector and nurse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+fell to Ian. He loved to feel the wee
+one's soft fur against his cheek as it
+lay on the hill with him. He liked to
+feed it from its bottle and hear the
+soft, gurgling noises it made.</p>
+
+<p>It amused him to see its tail waggled
+so rapidly after each mouthful
+of milk. This is the way it showed
+Ian how well it liked its dinner. And
+as Ian felt the lamb, warm and soft in
+his arms, he seemed to feel there something
+else&mdash;his beloved bagpipes!</p>
+
+<p>Much to the amusement of his parents,
+Ian called the lamb Betty, his
+baby sister's name. He felt that it
+was as helpless and young as she.</p>
+
+<p>Very often they both sucked from
+their nursing bottles at the same time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+While they were doing this, they
+looked at each other with big, wondering
+eyes. Ian often sat and admired
+the pair and laughingly said to
+his mother, "Your baby and my baby,
+Mother."</p>
+
+<p>So the days flew by, and the summer
+wore on. Soon the school bell began
+to ring out again. It told the children
+that another term was beginning.</p>
+
+<p>Ian was loth to leave his happy pastimes
+in field and on hill. However,
+he, like all Scotch children, was
+anxious to learn. So one morning, he
+strapped his book bag on his back and
+started off to school.</p>
+
+<p>That was a lonely day for the lamb
+Betty. She was lonely because her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+young guardian had hardly ever left
+her side. The lamb was clearly worried
+and bleated unmercifully until
+Ian returned from school.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus095.jpg" width="340" height="262"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">IAN HOME FROM SCHOOL</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>When, the next day, the same thing
+happened, Ian's pet could stand it no
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+longer and started out to find him.</p>
+
+<p>Every child in the world knows the
+song about "Mary's little lamb." That
+day, as Betty marched herself up the
+steps of Ian's schoolhouse, a chorus of
+childish voices sang out:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse">"Ian had a wee, wee lamb;</div>
+        <div class="verse">It followed him to school!"</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was much merriment as Ian
+hurriedly packed Betty off to her
+home. Like the teacher in the song,
+this teacher had difficulty in restoring
+order.</p>
+
+<p>It was also a flushed and embarrassed
+Ian who returned to his classroom.
+That evening he lectured Betty
+upon behavior for lambs!</p>
+
+<p>However, Betty was either disobedient
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+or else too young to understand
+Ian's lecture. The next day she tried
+to repeat her performance. She
+started off on a gallop to find her
+young master. I say, "tried," for alas,
+this time poor Betty could not find
+Ian's school!</p>
+
+<p>For many hours she wandered
+about. She went farther and farther,
+not only from school but from home.
+Evening fell, and Betty was bleating
+alone in a dense forest&mdash;lost!</p>
+
+<p>At last Ian returned from school.
+For several moments, he could not
+understand why Betty did not come
+to meet him. He stood and gazed
+about. Then a terrible thought came
+to him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus098.jpg" width="355" height="274"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">LOST!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Rushing to his father on the hillside,
+he asked excitedly for his pet. Alan
+Craig shook his head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've sent Roy again, laddie, but
+he's returned once alone. I fear the
+beastie is lost."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lost! Ian's world fell about him.
+The sound of distant bagpipes seemed
+to resound dully in his ears. The
+words of Sandy came to him through
+the dim: "In the spring, if this beastie
+is fine, and you have done your
+duty&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His duty! And poor Betty! Where
+could she be? A little lonely creature,
+more baby than animal, tended so
+carefully, and unused to the thorns
+and sharp rocks of the hills&mdash;alone
+and lost!</p>
+
+<p>"Father!" was all that Ian could
+gasp. Just then he saw Roy coming
+toward them, his tail between his legs.
+An expression of failure was in his
+shepherd eyes.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Roy, lad, can you not find her?"
+asked Ian.</p>
+
+<p>Ian threw his school books off his
+back. Kneeling, he put his arms
+around the neck of Roy. Roy answered
+in his own way. It was as clear to Ian
+as though the dog had cried out to
+him, "No, laddie, she's lost, lost!"</p>
+
+<p>And if a sheep was lost to Roy, it
+was indeed a lost sheep! For the
+clever dog would smell a sheep for
+many miles. He would, in fact, encounter
+any danger to bring a straggler
+back to the fold.</p>
+
+<p>Still, thought Ian, Betty was not
+really one of the fold. It was possible
+that Roy's experience did not fit him
+to scent out tame pets.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to look, Father," shouted
+the heartbroken boy.</p>
+
+<p>Calling Roy, he started off on a run.
+The father shook his head and felt a
+great pity for his little son.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus101.jpg" width="181" height="146"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption"></p>
+</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>ALAN CRAIG TELLS A STORY</h3>
+
+
+<p>The word "Betty" resounded in the
+hills many times that evening. The
+lights in the village were already
+lighted when a tired, heartsick boy,
+followed by a sympathetic sheep dog,
+returned to the Craig cottage.</p>
+
+<p>There they were awaited by Alan
+Craig. The lad stumbled blindly into
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>He found his father with a candle in
+his hand, waiting to lead the disappointed
+boy to his bed.</p>
+
+<p>Ian cried himself to sleep that night.
+Roy, the dog, sat beside him and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
+mourned for the lost member of the
+little household.</p>
+
+<p>The next day and the next were
+spent in searching the hills, the fields,
+and the forest. Fortunately for Ian,
+they were Saturday and Sunday, and
+he did not have to go to school.</p>
+
+<p>He arose before the dawn and did
+not return until evening. But it was
+always the same. Betty was nowhere
+to be found. Though Ian and Roy
+hunted in every conceivable place, the
+lamb had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>On Monday, Ian was forced to relinquish
+his hunt and go to school. Immediately
+after school he called to
+Roy and was off again.</p>
+
+<p>"The lad hardly eats his meals, he's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+so troubled!" said Mrs. Craig to her
+husband, as she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>Alan bit his pipe in silence, while
+his heart bled for Ian.</p>
+
+<p>Alan had been training a new dog
+for the sheep. He was using this dog
+instead of Roy, who was allowed to
+stay with Ian and help him in his
+search.</p>
+
+<p>But this meant added work for
+Alan, who had to be on the watch. He
+could not leave his charges completely
+in the care of this new helper,
+as he had done with Roy. Many times
+the new dog frightened the sheep.
+They soon became panicky and ran
+in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>Then the dog forgot all of Alan's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+training and ran after them wildly.
+Alan always had to come himself to
+restore order.</p>
+
+<p>One day he tramped miles to recover
+a terrified mother and her baby.
+After this long walk, Alan sat on the
+hillside.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the new dog looked at
+him out of the corner of his eye, and
+dropped his tail because he was
+ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>As the shepherd sat smoking, he
+saw his son coming toward him, followed
+by Roy. Ian threw himself
+down beside his father. Letting his
+head sink upon the shepherd's knee,
+he gave up the search.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis weary I am, Father," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+sighed. "The search is over, and my
+wee lamb is gone."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus106.jpg" width="333" height="263"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">IAN GIVES UP THE SEARCH</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"And your pipes, Ian? Are they to
+be lost, too?" queried the shepherd.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," answered his son, "for Sandy
+said, 'If you tend the wee creature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+well till spring!' Now Sandy will return
+in the spring, and there'll be no
+creature."</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments Alan Craig
+smoothed Ian's curly black hair. The
+boy tried hard to hold back his sobs,
+which were nearly choking him.</p>
+
+<p>Then Alan Craig spoke. "Ian, lad,
+have you not heard the story of Bruce
+and the spider?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, Father," replied Ian. "'Tis in
+my history book."</p>
+
+<p>"Then mind well while I repeat it to
+you. For King Robert Bruce was a
+great man, and he never gave up!"</p>
+
+<p>Ian listened intently while his father
+recounted the well-known tale. He
+told how, many, many years ago, King<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+Robert Bruce had fought with the
+English and lost numerous battles.
+One night, he was lying despondent on
+a rude couch in his tent on the battlefield.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus108.jpg" width="358" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">KING BRUCE AND THE SPIDER</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>His heart was heavy with the memory
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
+of his lost battles and of the suffering
+throughout his country. Just
+then his eye fell upon a spider in the
+corner of the tent. The industrious
+little creature was trying to fix its
+web to the top pole of the tent. It had
+already made six attempts, but each
+time it had fallen.</p>
+
+<p>King Bruce bethought him of his
+lost battles. Six! He and the spider
+had failed six times. And now he,
+King Bruce, was about to give up!
+Would the spider also be downed, or
+would it, perhaps, persevere once
+more?</p>
+
+<p>King Bruce made a vow to himself.
+He decided that, should the wee creature
+try again to fix its web and be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+successful, then he, Robert Bruce,
+would profit by the spider's lesson and
+fight another battle!</p>
+
+<p>The spider made another attempt.
+Slowly it raised its shadowy body
+until, quivering in the air, it balanced
+itself for the final plunge. The King
+raised himself on his elbow and
+watched. A nation awaited that
+spider's success or failure!</p>
+
+<p>Again it plunged, caught at the
+pole, and fixed its web! King Robert
+Bruce jumped to his feet. He threw
+his plaid about him and began his
+preparations for the greatest battle
+in Scottish history, the Battle of Bannockburn.</p>
+
+<p>As everyone knows, he routed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+English at this famous battle. Never
+afterward would the great King give
+up!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus111.jpg" width="353" height="281"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">ALAN TELLS THE STORY OF KING BRUCE AND THE SPIDER</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"So should we all feel, Ian," said
+Alan Craig as he finished his tale.</p>
+
+<p>"From the King to the spider!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+Though Ian had heard the story often
+before, it now held a new meaning for
+him. He looked up at his father.</p>
+
+<p>Then he stood erect and called to
+his dog, "Come, Roy; we'll try again!"</p>
+
+<p>He was soon off through the hills
+once more.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus112.jpg" width="176" height="143"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption"></p>
+</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>PIPERS AND TROUBLES</h3>
+
+
+<p>At the beginning of that same summer,
+Jamie Robinson, Aberfoyle's
+piper, became restless. Jamie was
+not a steady man. He had never been
+a good provider. His poor wife and
+babies were often hungry and cold in
+the stormy winter months.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie Robinson earned his living by
+his piping. He marched back and
+forth through the village street, playing
+his bagpipes. He hoped that the
+noisy, celebrating crowds, which arrived
+from Glasgow, would like his
+music and throw him pennies.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When the people were generous, his
+family might have a good dinner. But
+often Jamie Robinson did not bring
+the money home to his family. Unfortunately
+Jamie, who was a weak man,
+was often led by some of the village
+men into public houses. Here men
+gamble and drink.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes poor Mrs. Robinson
+waited until very late for her husband
+to come home. When at last he
+arrived, he came penniless.</p>
+
+<p>But now Jamie was buoyed up by
+the balmy weather. He felt a longing
+for the open road.</p>
+
+<p>"Come away, wife," he pleaded.
+"'Tis no living for a man here."</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Robinson only shook her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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?</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jamie," she said. "'Tis afraid
+I am to go traveling with the wee
+bairns." (Children are called bairns
+in Scotland.)</p>
+
+<p>But Jamie insisted and promised
+that she would not regret it. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+promised that he would make money
+and provide for them better than
+before.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;teakettle,
+sauce pan, and soup ladle.</p>
+
+<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+sticks and the tent, sat the two babies.
+One of them was three and the other
+barely two years old.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
+huddled together in their tent like
+lost sheep. When Jamie entered the
+tent, the baby was crying. Jamie
+knew she was hungry.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could only stay and teach the
+laddie to play!" mused the old piper.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+echoed through the village and beyond
+to the hills. But not a soul came
+to pay the piper.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>As Sandy drew closer, he heard a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+baby crying. Sandy called out, and
+Jamie put his face out of his tent. A
+sullen, angry face it was.</p>
+
+<p>"And what is it you want?" he bellowed.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy walked up to the man and
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked at the cart and again
+at Sandy's happy red face.</p>
+
+<p>Then, softening his tone, he said,
+"Then welcome. And have you piped
+to yon village?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," answered Sandy, "but they
+have not cared for my music!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He laughed as he said this, and
+started to pitch his tent.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy was shocked. The thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
+with bread and milk. To Mrs. Robinson,
+Sandy appeared as a good fairy
+that night.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+pilot her little tribe along the muddy
+road to the next village.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>These were terrible days for Sandy.
+He sold nearly everything he had to
+provide for the Robinsons and keep
+them from going hungry.</p>
+
+<p>One day the baby became desperately
+ill. It needed a doctor. Sandy
+rushed to the nearest village. The
+doctor was brought and pronounced
+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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy returned from the village,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
+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.</p>
+
+<p>And Sandy heard himself saying,
+"No, laddie. Sandy has disappointed
+you and has not brought you the
+pipes!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus128.jpg" width="187" height="150"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption"></p>
+</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>IAN TRIES AGAIN</h3>
+
+
+<p>Ian was once more in search of
+Betty. The story of King Bruce
+echoed in his ears and spurred him on.
+Roy, too, seemed to be inspired with
+new hope. He sniffed and ran, and ran
+and sniffed. Every once in a while, he
+would let out short, sharp barks.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not weary yourself, lad," said
+Ian. "We have long to go this day,
+and we'll not give up."</p>
+
+<p>With these words the boy began to
+whistle. A happiness seemed to come
+suddenly to him as though he already
+had Betty safe in his arms.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For many hours the boy and dog
+climbed and walked. At last they
+found themselves in a wild, rugged
+portion of the country, where Ian had
+never before been. Rocks were all
+about him. He descended into giant
+caverns.</p>
+
+<p>He called, "Betty!" and received
+only an echo for reply. He went farther
+until it was so late that he could
+not think of returning home. He
+would surely lose his way in the darkness,
+if he attempted it. So he curled
+himself up between two massive
+rocks and, with Roy nestling close to
+his side, fell fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>At dawn, Ian was awakened by Roy.
+The dog was barking and making wild
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+dashes in the direction of a large
+gulch near by.</p>
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus131.jpg" width="635" height="444"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">IAN, BETTY AND ROY</p>
+</div>
+<p>He ran madly to the gulch, then
+dashed back again to Ian. His barks
+came in hysterical gasps.</p>
+
+<p>Ian ran with Roy to the edge of the
+gulch. Looking down, the boy saw a
+terrible sight. Hanging on to a ragged
+ledge was a large mother sheep. It
+was one of his own father's, as he
+could see by the markings on the wool.
+The poor creature was bleating. A
+few feet above the ledge stood her
+baby lamb.</p>
+
+<p>At each of Roy's barks, the mother
+sheep gave a little jump, and the ledge
+of rock quivered. Ian thought surely
+it would break and the sheep would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+be dashed to pieces on the rocks
+below.</p>
+
+<p>"Down, down!" commanded Ian in
+the same voice as his father used to
+the dog.</p>
+
+<p>Roy crouched and whined, but
+stopped his barking. Ian remembered
+that some of the mother sheep distrusted
+the dog. So it would be impossible
+for Roy to show himself now.
+What must be done must be done by
+Ian himself.</p>
+
+<p>While the boy climbed down the
+precipitous rocks, the faithful dog,
+deprived of his rightful work, whined
+and howled. Had he not been trained
+to obey, he would never have stayed.
+But to a shepherd dog, a master's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
+word is law. Roy watched his young
+friend as the boy made the perilous
+descent to rescue the terrified animal
+on the ledge.</p>
+
+<p>The sheep was large, and its wool
+weighed heavily. But Ian grasped the
+creature firmly. With all his might,
+he pulled until he had it on the rock
+above. When the baby lamb saw its
+mother coming, it uttered loud, joyous
+bleatings.</p>
+
+<p>Ian could only think that the sheep
+had been led astray by his father's
+new dog. He was worried for fear
+that there were others which had
+strayed beyond. He decided to see,
+and started off beyond the rock hill.</p>
+
+<p>But when Roy began to drive the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
+mother sheep along, she became very
+angry. She ran at him with her
+head lowered. Roy could not manage
+her. She refused to obey him and Ian.</p>
+
+<p>The boy, who carried a crook like
+his father's, was forced to resort to
+the only means of bringing her to order.
+With a quick sweep of the crook,
+he caught the baby sheep. He lifted
+it in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you'll come away," he said
+to the mother, as he walked on. Snorting,
+the mother sheep was forced to
+follow.</p>
+
+<p>On and on walked Ian and Roy. And
+now the hunt was not only for Betty,
+but for more of his father's herd. Ian
+thought he would find some that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+might have been led astray by the
+new dog.</p>
+
+<p>At noon he sat down to eat his
+"piece," which he carried in his sporran.
+When he had finished, he started
+for a clear stream near by.</p>
+
+<p>As he approached, he thought he
+saw one of the grayish rocks in the
+stream moving. He rubbed his eyes.
+Could it be a reflection from the
+water? No. It was moving slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Ian approached faster. What was
+his amazement at finding the gray
+rock to be his own Betty! It was his
+Betty, thin and ragged, and stumbling
+along on her front knees, too weak to
+raise her feet. Poor little beast!</p>
+
+<p>She was nearly dead. As Ian raised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+her up, he realized that he had found
+her just in time. The creature seemed
+to know the boy, for she nestled down
+in his arms as of yore. In spite of her
+suffering, she seemed perfectly happy,
+now that her Ian was found.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus137.jpg" width="171" height="142"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption"></p>
+</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>SPRING</h3>
+
+
+<p>Spring! Each day found an eager,
+watchful boy, a happy, sweet-faced
+sheep dog, and a large fleecy lamb
+standing on the Rob Roy Brig. They
+were awaiting in glad anticipation a
+visitor, who was expected and whose
+music would soon reach the happy
+ears of a future piper.</p>
+
+<p>Ian Craig had never allowed his
+Betty to roam after that frightful episode.
+She had been kept in a little
+corral, which Ian built for her. When
+he came home from school, he took
+her with him to the brig. He fastened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
+her to a massive rock, while he
+awaited the return of Sandy.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus139.jpg" width="361" height="262"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">BETTY AWAITS SANDY&#39;S RETURN</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Betty was now almost as fat and
+big as the other sheep. She was a
+credit to the boy's good care. So
+proud of her was Ian that he often
+tied a lovely tartan ribbon about her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+neck. He combed her wool tenderly
+each day before he started off for the
+brig.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day, the two waited.
+Meanwhile, Roy looked on with kindly
+eyes, although he did not understand
+it all. Of course, Betty was equally
+ignorant of why she was made to pose
+with a floppy bow around her neck,
+tied to an annoying rock. But she
+was content, for Ian stayed beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes as Ian watched and
+waited, he thought he heard the bagpipes
+in the distance. And as he heard,
+his heart beat faster. The moment of
+bliss when he could claim his reward,
+seemed to be upon him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then he often looked at Betty, and
+a qualm seized him. How could he
+part with the lamb? He had been
+through trouble and sorrow for the
+little animal. He had lived many
+happy hours by her side. It was as
+though she had become his own. The
+thought of parting from her was like
+a stab. Then, too, Betty loved him.</p>
+
+<p>At these times, the poor little boy
+would knit his brow and ponder upon
+the strangeness of life.</p>
+
+<p>Then he thought of the pipers and
+the tale of Dunblane, where the stalwart
+lads marched and played. He
+thought of the glorious piper bands
+marching in the big towns. The
+thought made him brighten and jump<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+from the brig and scan the country
+for a sign of Sandy.</p>
+
+<p>But the days of budding blossoms
+and showers in Scotland wore on.
+Finally Betty's ribbon bow began to
+fade and Ian's patience to wear.</p>
+
+<p>Little Elsie Campbell used at times
+to walk with the boy to the brig.
+Often he stopped on the walk and
+talked to her, as he cocked his head on
+one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not hear the din of pipes,
+Elsie?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>And the wee lassie shook her head
+and said, "Ach, no, lad. 'Tis daft you
+are with your pipes!"</p>
+
+<p>But it was said kindly, for Elsie
+hoped and prayed that Sandy would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+return. You see, Ian had told her the
+story of Betty and how he waited for
+the promised pipes. It was, in fact,
+Elsie who had first tied the silken tartan
+ribbon about the lamb's neck.</p>
+
+<p>It was a gray day which promised
+rain. Ian and Betty neared the brig
+together. Ian had just tied the creature
+to her accustomed rock and was
+lifting himself to the wall when he
+heard a sound. Pipes! Unmistakably
+pipes!</p>
+
+<p>Still, he had been mistaken so often
+before that he dared not look. And
+Elsie was not there to-day. She would
+have told him. For in her ears the
+sound was not always droning as it
+had been in Ian's for many days.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had not told his mother for fear
+of worrying her. But his head was
+often heavy, and he could not sleep
+with the sound of the bagpipes. Poor
+little Ian! If only Sandy would return!</p>
+
+<p>On this dull, misty day as he swung
+his feet from the wall of the brig, Ian
+could not stop the sound. Nearer and
+nearer it came!</p>
+
+<p>Then, "Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,"
+chanted the pipes. Ian looked up
+and saw standing before him his
+Sandy!</p>
+
+<p>Although he was as red and wrinkled
+and twinkling as before, there was a
+change. Sandy was very shabby. His
+coat was stained with the mud and
+rain of many hard days.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He stopped his playing and stood
+before the boy. A sad, longing look
+came into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Ian, lad," he said slowly, "'tis
+Sandy come back."</p>
+
+<p>And Ian suddenly realized that it
+was all true and not one of his dreams.
+He jumped down from the wall and
+threw his arms about Sandy.</p>
+
+<p>"Ach, Sandy," he cried. Then he
+stood back and pointed to the lamb.
+Evidently Sandy had not noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you not see our beastie,
+Sandy? 'Tis the same you left with
+me, and well and fat she is."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy turned and looked at Betty.
+But he did not talk as Ian had expected
+him to, nor did he compliment
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+Ian on the lamb's well-being. He only
+stood fingering his pipes and slowly
+shaking his head.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus146.jpg" width="633" height="444"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">&quot;SANDY HIMSELF WILL TEACH YOU TO PLAY&quot;</p>
+</div>
+<p>As Ian stared in wonderment, the
+piper lifted his bagpipes from his
+shoulder and handed them to the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Your pipes are here, lad, and
+Sandy keeps his promise!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Without thinking Ian put out his
+arms to receive the instrument. His
+eyes, however, did not leave his
+friend's face.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Sandy, these are your own
+pipes you're giving me!" he said, as if
+he could hardly believe it, after looking
+down at what Sandy had placed in
+his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lad," answered Sandy, "and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+now you can be a fine piper, and Sandy
+himself will teach you to play."</p>
+
+<p>Then Sandy told Ian the sad story
+of Jamie Robinson. He explained
+how he had sold nearly all his worldly
+goods to help the little family and put
+them on their feet again. He told of
+how he had left them comfortably
+settled near a prosperous village. He
+had made Jamie promise to work and
+save for his little brood.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy also told how he had come
+all the way to keep his promise to
+the boy. He said, too, that now, as
+in Aberfoyle there was no piper, he
+expected to stay here and take Jamie
+Robinson's place if Ian would lend him
+his pipes each day for awhile. And in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+return, he would teach the lad to
+play!</p>
+
+<p>"For I'm not so young as I was, laddie,
+and the wandering life is over for
+me," he added.</p>
+
+<p>When Ian heard these plans, he was
+beside himself with joy. He hugged
+first Sandy, then Roy, and then Betty.
+At last the piper became his old jolly
+self once more and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lad, we'll share the pipes together,
+though they belong to you.
+But old Sandy will have to make a
+living, and he'll teach you all the
+tunes he knows!"</p>
+
+<p>No happier boy than Ian Craig lived
+in Scotland that night. Standing before
+the door of the cottage, he puffed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+and blew on his pipes. There issued
+forth the sound of a thousand sheep
+all bleating at once but all in pain!
+Sandy listened from his tent on the
+hill opposite and chuckled to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Roy was also in pain as he listened.
+His delicate ears were unused to this
+shrieking and squealing. He joined in
+the din with loud howls.</p>
+
+<p>The baby within the house was in
+sympathy, too, and added her wails.</p>
+
+<p>So Sandy's first evening as a resident
+in Aberfoyle was not a quiet one.
+He was forced to stop his ears.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Craig was unable to stand the
+racket. So she pulled her puffing son
+into the house and packed him off to
+bed, to the great relief of all.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus151.jpg" width="638" height="444"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE SOUND OF HIS PIPES ECHOED BACK THROUGH THE GLEN</p>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Ian was a quick and hard-working
+pupil. It was not long before Roy
+quite approved of the sounds his master
+made on his pipes. He did not then
+feel it necessary to amend the
+melody.</p>
+
+<p>Also the baby gurgled with glee.
+She puffed out her cheeks in imitation
+of Ian and laughed happily.
+And Betty, the lamb, too, seemed to
+know that all was well. The world
+was in tune with the wee Scotch piper
+who had, at last, realized his dreams.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse">"'Tis the close of the day</div>
+        <div class="verse indent2">At the foot of the ben,</div>
+      <div class="verse">And the sound of his pipes</div>
+        <div class="verse indent2">Echoes back through the glen."</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a cloudless day in the big
+Scotch city. The people seemed to
+feel that something unusual was
+about to happen. Everyone wore his
+best, and the city fairly shone with
+the reds and blues and greens of tartan
+kilts and bonnets.</p>
+
+<p>Soldiers paraded the streets. Children
+hurried along by their parents'
+sides, anxious to arrive at the big
+grand stand in time. Numerous bystanders
+flanked the wide street.</p>
+
+<p>All the people were breathless with
+excitement. Even the usual crowding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+traffic suspended its pushing and
+shrill tooting. For this was a great
+day in Scotland. Many celebrations
+occur at intervals in this land of excursions
+and picnics. But to-day was
+as the children would say, "extra
+special."</p>
+
+<p>The huge grand stand was overcrowded
+with eager Scotchmen, with
+their wives and bairns. They all
+strained their eyes for a glimpse of
+the great "kiltie band," which was to
+march down the street.</p>
+
+<p>Among those who watched, and
+perhaps the most eager of all, were a
+family of country folk. In bobbing
+black bonnet sat a calm-faced old
+lady. Beside her was a rugged old
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+man. Both were in their best array.
+Both were longing for the sight they
+had come miles from their little farm
+to see.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus155.jpg" width="645" height="444"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption">THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The couple were none other than
+Alan Craig and his wife. The sight
+that their old eyes would soon see, as
+the happy tears dimmed their view,
+would be their son, their Ian. He was
+now a tall, manly piper in kilted uniform,
+marching and piping with the
+flower of Scotland's army.</p>
+
+<p>By their side sat another. His
+kindly face shone with pride, and in
+his heart was a singing joy.</p>
+
+<p>For Sandy MacGregor had taught
+this lad to play. It was the same old
+pipes of Sandy MacGregor that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+still used. He would soon show those
+pipes to a cheering crowd as his fingers
+flew over the chanter. While he
+played, his arm would shelter the tartan
+bellows once sheltered by Sandy's
+own arm as the old piper had wandered
+over hill and through dale.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy MacGregor had lived many
+years for this moment. As he craned
+his neck for a sight of the coming parade,
+he spoke to the little girl beside
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"See, Betty, 'tis they coming now."</p>
+
+<p>Betty, Ian's baby sister, was now a
+girl of the age Ian had been when first
+Sandy had met him.</p>
+
+<p>Together, Betty and Sandy had
+dreamed and planned the day when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
+together they would view their piper
+laddie on parade.</p>
+
+<p>For Sandy had dwelt in the village
+of Aberfoyle these many years. While
+he had piped for his living, he had
+taught another piper, who was now to
+cover his old teacher with glory.</p>
+
+<p>In the large audience there was still
+another, whose blue eyes danced with
+joy. Her hands were clasped together
+with excitement as she awaited the
+approach of her boyhood friend. It
+was little Elsie Campbell, now grown
+to womanhood. Elsie was among
+those who thrilled to see the "wee
+Scotch piper," as he marched along
+that day.</p>
+
+<p>Who knows with what feelings of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+pride the lad looked up as he passed
+that grand stand? Who knows his feelings
+of love, on seeing those dear
+faces smiling and nodding at him?</p>
+
+<p>And as he marched and played, he
+seemed to see before him a little
+schoolboy marching and playing. That
+boy was himself, trudging the streets
+of a wee village, followed by a bleating
+lamb!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" >
+<img src="images/illus159.jpg" width="166" height="131"  alt="" />
+<p class="caption"></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class='transnote'><h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3>
+<p>Some full-page illustrations have been moved so as not to
+ interrupt paragraphs; this has led to some pages, e.g. p.13,
+ being empty, and not marked with a page number. </p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis
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@@ -0,0 +1,2323 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+Author: Madeline Brandeis
+
+Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40664]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Colin M. Kendall and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+[Illustration: THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER]
+
+
+
+
+_The_ WEE SCOTCH PIPER
+
+BY
+
+MADELINE BRANDEIS
+
+_Producer of the Motion Pictures_
+
+  "The Little Indian Weaver"
+  "The Wee Scotch Piper"
+  "The Little Dutch Tulip Girl"
+  "The Little Swiss Wood-Carver"
+
+Distributed by Pathe Exchange, Inc., New York City
+
+_Photographic Illustrations made in Scotland by the Author_
+
+  GROSSET & DUNLAP
+  PUBLISHERS  NEW YORK
+  _by arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company_
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+When I began to write these stories about children of all lands I had
+just returned from Europe whither I journeyed with Marie and Ref. Maybe
+you don't know Marie and Ref. I'll introduce them: Please meet Marie,
+my very little daughter, and Ref, my very big reflex camera.
+
+These two are my helpers. Marie helps by being a little girl who knows
+what other little girls like and by telling me; and Ref helps by
+snapping pictures of everything interesting that Marie and I see on our
+travels. I couldn't get along without them.
+
+Several years have gone by since we started our work together and Marie
+is a bigger girl--but Ref hasn't changed one bit. Ref hasn't changed
+any more than my interest in writing these books for you. And I hope
+that _you_ hope that I'll never change, because I want to keep on
+writing until we'll have no more countries to write about--unless, of
+course, some one discovers a new country.
+
+Even if a new country isn't discovered, we'll find foreign children to
+talk about--maybe the children in Mars! Who knows? Nobody. Not even
+Marie--and Marie usually knows about most things. That's the reason
+why, you see, though I sign myself
+
+[Handwritten: Madeline Brandeis]
+
+I am really only
+
+Marie's Mother.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+  To every child of every land,
+    Little sister, little brother,
+  As in this book your lives unfold,
+    May you learn to love each other.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ Chapter I                      Page
+ The Craig Family                 11
+
+ Chapter II
+ Sandy's First Visit              28
+
+ Chapter III
+ Pipers                           44
+
+ Chapter IV
+ Sandy Returns                    53
+
+ Chapter V
+ Through Scotland With Sandy      71
+
+ Chapter VI
+ Ian's Betty                      91
+
+ Chapter VII
+ Alan Craig Tells a Story        102
+
+ Chapter VIII
+ Pipers and Troubles             113
+
+ Chapter IX
+ Ian Tries Again                 129
+
+ Chapter X
+ Spring                          138
+
+ Chapter XI
+ The Wee Scotch Piper            153
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SOUND OF HIS PIPES ECHOED BACK THROUGH THE GLEN]
+
+
+
+
+The Wee Scotch Piper
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE CRAIG FAMILY
+
+
+In the wee village of Aberfoyle, which is in Perthshire County,
+Scotland, lived Alan Craig, a shepherd.
+
+The sheep of Scotland, like the bagpipes and bluebells, are famous, and
+in Aberfoyle there are many.
+
+Dotted alongside the road are the bright bluebells, lighting up in true
+fairy array the darkness made by big, shady trees.
+
+Shrieking through the stillness of a summer evening, comes the sound of
+the bagpipes. This music is furnished by a tattered piper marching up
+and down, up and down. He hopes that the people will throw pennies for
+the love of the tune he plays.
+
+And the sheep, like little dots of white in the green meadows, graze.
+But sometimes, they, too, shriek when they are herded together, perhaps
+for the clipping.
+
+When the sheep all bleat together, it sounds very much like the
+shrieking of the bagpipes. Maybe that is how the bagpipe was really
+started. Perhaps the sound was first uttered by a herd of Scotch sheep!
+
+It was not yet clipping time on the small farm of Alan Craig. His sheep
+still roamed the hills. Their heavy, curly wool weighed them down and
+made them look as if they had on long, woollen nighties.
+
+[Illustration: SCOTLAND IS FULL OF SHEEP]
+
+The babies sometimes walked right under their mothers, and then they
+were completely hidden.
+
+On a hill sat Alan Craig, and by his side his faithful dog, Roy. Roy
+was a real sheep dog and was proud of his profession.
+
+You know, when people are called professionals, it means that they are
+trained in one occupation. Of course, people make money at their
+professions, and this was the only difference between Roy and a
+professional human.
+
+Roy was a professional sheep dog, but he did his work out of devotion
+to his master. Also he did it because it was in his blood to love to
+race the timid sheep over the hills and obey his master's commands.
+
+"Back, Roy!" shouted Alan Craig.
+
+Roy jumped to his feet and, barking, ran to bring back the flock, which
+had disappeared around a rocky mountain.
+
+"Bowwow-wow!" The sheep heard him coming and, stupid creatures that
+they are, started to run the other way. "Bowwow!"
+
+"Down, sir, down!" came the voice of Alan Craig from afar, and Roy
+understood.
+
+Silently he made a dash for the leading sheep and, bounding ahead of
+the herd, he stood on guard. His feet were planted apart, and his
+tongue hung out. He was barking in his own language a short Scotch
+bark, which meant, "Now, will you go back?"
+
+All but the leading sheep began to turn. That leader was, however, a
+mother sheep with a loved baby. She had always been very suspicious of
+Roy.
+
+Perhaps he had once snapped at her baby, for he often had to do this to
+make the sheep behave. At any rate, the mother sheep could not forgive
+him. Without any fear, she now sprang toward Roy and butted her head in
+defiance.
+
+[Illustration: THE VILLAGE OF ABERFOYLE]
+
+Roy stood his ground and then made a plunge at her legs. Meanwhile, he
+let out a shrill bark as one of her sharp horns hit his leg. It was a
+short but hard battle.
+
+At last Roy returned to his master, his tongue nearly sweeping the
+ground. But there was a triumphant expression in his eyes as he drove
+the crowd of panting sheep into a circle around Alan Craig and threw
+himself at his master's feet to await his reward.
+
+This was not long in coming. Alan Craig appreciated his helper. In fact
+Roy was really the shepherd. Alan had only to speak his commands--"work
+his dog," as the Scotch say--and Roy did the rest.
+
+Now he stroked his dog and said, "Good, Roy! Well done!"
+
+Alan's language was well understood by Roy, but these words would have
+sounded this way to you: "Gude, Roy! Weel dune!" had Alan spoken in
+the Scotch dialect to Roy.
+
+He could speak very good English, and did when he spoke to Englishmen.
+But you see, Roy was a Scotchman!
+
+From the little white cottage in the hollow came the smell of
+dinner--fresh pancakes and meat cooking.
+
+Alan picked up his crook--the kind that little Bopeep used--only Alan
+did not look like little Bopeep. Indeed, he was very different.
+
+He was a big strong man. Although we picture a Scotch shepherd dressed
+in kilts and socks and perhaps a tam, Alan Craig wore none of these.
+Kilts and socks and tams are for the gentry, Alan would tell you, and
+shepherds are too poor to afford them.
+
+[Illustration: MRS. CRAIG AND IAN'S BABY SISTER AT THE VILLAGE PUMP]
+
+So Alan wore an old suit which might have once been worn by your own
+father and then given away to some beggar. Alan was poor like most of
+the villagers, for Scotland is rather a poor country.
+
+Still, in the little village of Aberfoyle, everyone was happy. In the
+evenings the people from the big city of Glasgow came in big buses.
+They danced outside on the village green to the tune of the pipes,
+while they gloried in the fresh country air.
+
+So you must not think that Alan Craig and his family suffered. Indeed,
+there could hardly have been a happier little family in Scotland.
+
+That evening Alan wended his way homeward and was met by his wife and
+baby. If you have ever seen how an Indian mother carries her baby, then
+you will know how Mrs. Craig carried hers. Only instead of carrying it
+on her back as the Indians do, she carried it in front wrapped securely
+in her plaid shawl.
+
+Her one arm was thus free, and she worked most of the day this way,
+while knowing and feeling her little one safe in her arms.
+
+The family sat down to dinner in their wee kitchen, for the farmers
+have no such luxury as a dining room. They started their soup, a thick
+broth made of barley and vegetables of all kinds. Mother Craig poured
+it out of the big tureen.
+
+Just at this time, the door burst open, and a ruddy-faced boy of ten
+years rushed into the room.
+
+[Illustration: IAN CRAIG]
+
+"Ian Craig, do you know the hour?" asked Mother Craig.
+
+The boy stood in the doorway and smiled at the family. He sniffed with
+delight the pleasant odor coming to him from the table.
+
+"Ay, Mother," answered the boy. "Well do I know."
+
+Then he prepared to take his place at the table, with a gesture of
+rubbing his stomach in thinking of what was to be put inside.
+
+"What a bonny smell, Mother!" he continued. "And surely the taste is
+even bonnier!"
+
+"'Tis the glib tongue you have, Ian Craig," laughed his father. "You
+could write poetry to the smell of a good dinner! And now, what have
+you to tell us to-night?"
+
+Now, Ian was always full of stories and tales of adventure. He was one
+of those children to whom something exciting is always happening.
+
+[Illustration: ALAN CRAIG, IAN, AND ROY]
+
+So the family were quite accustomed to having him return home with
+vivid tales. Some were strange, some droll and, alas, some sad and
+painful, told to the tune of bandages and arnica.
+
+Still, what boy is not sometimes hurt? And Ian's accidents were few, in
+comparison to his other experiences. Surely, it is to be wondered how,
+in a small, quiet town like Aberfoyle, so many wondrous happenings
+could occur.
+
+Sometimes Ian was doubted, not, however, by his parents, who knew that
+their son was truthful. The schoolmaster knew it, too, and was proud of
+Ian, whose stories and poems were the best in his class.
+
+One day he was recounting to a group of spellbound school children his
+experiences of the day. He was relating what wondrous happenings had
+befallen him, when he was interrupted by a boy who shouted, "Ian Craig
+is telling lies!"
+
+The boy was a year older than Ian, but he was never known to make sport
+of Ian again. Nor did Ian ever admit to his parents how it happened
+that he arrived home from school that day with a swollen eye.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+SANDY'S FIRST VISIT
+
+
+Aberfoyle is the center of the "Rob Roy country." Rob Roy MacGregor
+was, as every child knows, a great Scotch warrior and represented one
+of the oldest Highland clans.
+
+In Aberfoyle, where Ian Craig lived, stands the old house in which Sir
+Walter Scott wrote his famous story "Rob Roy." To-day it houses the
+village minister.
+
+Near by is a tumble-down thatched cottage known as "Jean McAlpin's
+Inn," where Rob Roy was wont to rest.
+
+[Illustration: THE "ROB ROY BRIG" AND THE HOUSE WHERE WALTER SCOTT
+WROTE "ROB ROY"]
+
+A landmark in the village is the old "Rob Roy Brig." Here on the old
+brig (which means "bridge" in Scotch) Ian would sit when school was out
+and his chores at home were finished.
+
+Something usually happened when he sat here, and many of his
+experiences had started from this bridge. Often, while he waited for
+adventure, Ian fished from the bridge. He brought home fine, fat
+morsels, for the river Forth, which flows beneath the bridge, is rich
+in fish.
+
+But Ian's dearest memory was of Sandy. The Sandy adventure had taken
+place almost a year before, but it was as vivid in Ian's mind as though
+it had all occurred the day before.
+
+It happened while Ian was fishing from the brig. He heard the sound of
+bagpipes--a sound that is nothing unusual to hear in Scotland. Still it
+always made Ian joyous and sad at once. And now he turned to listen.
+
+[Illustration: SANDY MACGREGOR]
+
+This playing was the loveliest he had ever heard. Jamie Robinson played
+almost every night in front of the old hotel, and Ian loved the music.
+But this playing was different. He had always thought Jamie's playing
+good, but he now wondered how he could ever have thought so.
+
+This tune was from far away, but it carried across the meadow and along
+the road. And then he saw Sandy! Sandy was standing still in the middle
+of the road while he played.
+
+By his side was a handcart, and Ian knew at once what it meant. Sandy
+was a wandering piper, a man who has no home, a gypsy. He piped for his
+living and camped on the road.
+
+Many pipers passed through Aberfoyle, some with large families. In
+fact, Jamie was one of them, only Jamie did not travel. He lived in the
+woods near Aberfoyle in a tent with his wife and babies.
+
+[Illustration: GYPSIES OF THE HIGHWAY]
+
+But no one had ever played like this before. Ian ran up the road. As he
+approached the newcomer, he could see that the piper was a little old
+man. He had a kindly, wrinkled face, and twinkling eyes which winked at
+Ian as the boy came closer. Then suddenly he changed his tune.
+
+"Bonny laddie, Highland laddie," shrieked the pipes.
+
+Ian stopped in front of the piper and thought he should cry. The music
+ceased.
+
+A hand was laid on Ian's shoulder, and a voice asked, "And why, laddie,
+do you stand and look with eyes so big and sad?"
+
+Ian then realized that he had been staring as if in a trance. He
+brought himself back to earth, smiled, and put out his hand.
+
+"I'm sorry, sir. I was only admiring your bonny piping!"
+
+"Ach!" laughed the piper. "And I was only admiring the bonny laddie!
+What's your name?"
+
+"Ian Craig."
+
+[Illustration: "MA NAME'S SANDY!"]
+
+"And mine's Sandy. You may call me Sandy, though my name's really Evert
+Robert MacKeith MacGregor, and my great-grandfather was a cousin to
+the great Rob Roy."
+
+With these words, Sandy MacGregor put his pipes into his cart. Then,
+slinging the rope over his shoulders, he started to pull his load
+along, while Ian kept step with him.
+
+"And a fine village this is--the scene of my ancestor's home! Do you
+live here, my lad?"
+
+"Ay, Sandy, and not far from old Rob Roy Brig."
+
+"Well, well," sighed Sandy. "And could we bide a wee on the old brig of
+my ancestor while Sandy rests?"
+
+"Ay, could we," said Ian with great delight, "and I can pull your cart
+for you, Sandy, until we get there."
+
+Gratefully the old man allowed the boy to pull his load, while he
+stretched his tired arms. He breathed in the sweet-smelling air of the
+village of his ancestor.
+
+When they came to the bridge, Ian put down the cart. He invited Sandy
+to sit beside him on the wall, his usual perch. The old man jumped up
+to the boy's side, as spry as the boy himself, and looked around.
+
+"Well, well," he said, "and to think 'tis Sandy's first visit to the
+home of his ancestor--Sandy who has been nigh all over the land!"
+
+At these words Ian's heart gave a bound, and he said, "Have you seen
+nigh all of bonny Scotland, Sandy?"
+
+[Illustration: SANDY TELLS THE LAD ABOUT BONNY SCOTLAND]
+
+"Ay, that have I, lad, and traveled on my own two feet through it all."
+
+"Sandy," said Ian wistfully, "would you be telling me about it?"
+
+"Ach, ay, laddie," smiled the old wanderer. "That would I, for 'tis
+many a fine sight these old eyes have seen."
+
+Sandy talked, and the boy listened. The sun grew lower and lower in the
+heavens. Ian Craig thought that never before had he known an afternoon
+to slip by so quickly.
+
+Sandy told Ian about the time he had visited Edinburgh, Scotland's
+capital, and one of the most attractive cities in the world.
+
+He told of Princes Street, with its sunken gardens on one side, and
+its wonderful view of historic Edinburgh Castle, its pretty shops and
+stately monuments. It is considered by many to be the most beautiful
+street in all the world.
+
+[Illustration: PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH]
+
+On the top of a winding hill is Edinburgh Castle. Here, in the
+courtyard of the old castle is Half-Moon Battery, where is kept the
+one-o'clock gun.
+
+This gun fires every day at the hour of one. It is attached by electric
+wire to the time ball on the top of Nelson's Monument on Carlton Hill
+opposite. This ball falls, in turn, at a signal from Greenwich
+Observatory, near London, where is set the time for the whole world.
+
+In another part of the castle grounds can be found a pathetic little
+plot of ground known as "The Dogs' Cemetery." Here are buried the pets
+of the soldiers who fought in the World War.
+
+[Illustration: THE DOGS' CEMETERY]
+
+Many of these little beasts were gallant heroes and were buried with
+great reverence. Lovely flowers decorate their graves, and inscriptions
+tell of each one's valor.
+
+But to one little dog in particular was a fountain erected. It stands
+in one of the streets of Edinburgh. This fountain represents
+"Greyfriars' Bobby," as the little dog was called.
+
+He was given this name because it was to the old Greyfriars Churchyard
+that he went, day after day, to seek his master, who was buried there.
+The caretakers of the cemetery tried to keep him out.
+
+Still day after day he came. He always lay upon the grave of his master
+and grieved, until one day they found him dead. And now the fountain is
+there to remind the people of this faithful little creature.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PIPERS
+
+
+"Do you think my dog would grieve if I should die?" asked Ian, as he
+brushed away a tear with his sleeve and tried to distract Sandy's
+attention from his action.
+
+"Ay, if you treat him kindly, lad," answered the old man. "Beasties are
+faithful to us when they know we love them."
+
+"Ay," said Ian. "Roy is faithful, and a smart sheep dog, too."
+
+"Do you like fine to herd the sheep, laddie?" asked Sandy.
+
+Ian hung his head.
+
+"No, Sandy. I like finer to go about and have adventures and make up
+that I am--" He hesitated.
+
+"What, lad? Speak. Do not be afraid of Sandy for he knows the hearts of
+laddies well."
+
+"If I could play the pipes, Sandy, I would go away and be a piper in
+the band some day," confessed Ian.
+
+This was, indeed, a dream so near to his heart that he had never before
+spoken it aloud. After the admission, Ian turned his head away and did
+not look at Sandy. But the old man's voice was very soft and his tone
+caressing, as he said, "And a fine dream it is, Ian lad, for to be a
+piper is a great and honored calling."
+
+"Ay," answered Ian huskily, "but 'tis not for me, Sandy."
+
+Sandy turned the boy around then and looked him squarely in the eye.
+
+"Ian, lad, do not speak so, for nothing is too hard to get when you
+want it."
+
+Ian's eyes lighted up for a moment. Then the same forlorn look came
+into them as he let his head droop.
+
+"No, Sandy. The pipes are too dear, and it takes many months to learn
+to play."
+
+"And you study hard at school, lad?" asked the piper.
+
+"Ay, do I," spoke the boy.
+
+"Then some day, you'll be liking to hear of the fine military school I
+saw."
+
+[Illustration: THE PIPER LADDIES]
+
+"Ach, Sandy, tell me about it. Have you really seen it?" Ian was at
+once alert.
+
+"Ay, that have I, and only three weeks ago when I was passing by
+Dunblane."
+
+As the poor little village lad drank in his words, Sandy talked on
+about the wonderful school in Dunblane. This school is called the Queen
+Victoria School. Here lads between the ages of nine and fifteen are
+trained as soldiers.
+
+They are sons of military men, some of whom fell in the World War.
+These boys are reared and taught free of charge. It is a great and good
+school for a boy to attend.
+
+[Illustration: THE DRUM MAJOR]
+
+To see and hear these sons of Scotland's heroes is an experience never
+to be forgotten. They present a fine appearance in their bright-colored
+kilts and military trappings, as they march and play upon their pipes.
+
+Sandy saw and heard, and carried away with him a memory of the
+loveliest sight and sound imaginable. Coming toward him were boys.
+Children they were, with their kilts making a vivid pattern.
+
+Their bare knees moved in perfect unison as they stepped to the tunes
+of Scotland's patriotic melodies. They played in a way unsurpassed by
+pipers older and more experienced than they.
+
+First came a waltz, gracefully played and gracefully stepped. Then came
+a march, loud, fast, but always in perfect harmony. The sound might
+have come from a single organ played, perhaps, by Scottish cherubim.
+
+The drum major wore a plumed helmet and carried a baton. He was only
+fourteen years old, but he twirled his stick and marched like a veteran
+of many wars.
+
+[Illustration: THE DRUMMER BOY]
+
+The little twelve-year-old drummer swung his drumsticks into the air
+and caught them again. He never missed a beat on his drum. The rest,
+pipers all, marched and played. Their cheeks puffed in and out, while
+their fingers moved and made melodies.
+
+Throughout the hills echoed the sound. It was the same as echoed during
+the Battle of Bannockburn, when Scottish history was made. To these
+tunes, in this same rugged country marched, years ago, these lads'
+ancestors.
+
+And Sandy carried his memories of Queen Victoria School back to Ian
+Craig. Ian's longing to become a piper grew greater as he listened. In
+his heart he uttered a silent prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+SANDY RETURNS
+
+
+Though his meeting with Sandy had happened many months before, neither
+the memory of Sandy nor of the pipers had dimmed in Ian's mind. Through
+his hours of work and play his thoughts turned to marching Highland
+laddies and shrieking pipes.
+
+He would often imagine himself as one of their number. Indeed, often on
+his walks to school he would "make believe," as so many children call
+it. People would turn to see why the little boy in kilts marched so
+straight and puffed his cheeks out.
+
+Ian wore kilts, though his father did not. Many of the children went to
+school in their kilts. Yet many could not afford to do this and wore
+them only on Sundays.
+
+Ian, however, had a school kilt and a Sunday kilt and was very proud of
+his wardrobe. One of the main reasons for his pride lay in the fact
+that in kilts he could better imagine himself a piper.
+
+Marching alone one morning, he met Elsie. Elsie was only a wee lass,
+far younger than Ian. But she liked the tall boy who always smiled at
+her and who walked so straight.
+
+Ian liked Elsie better than the other lassies, who did not understand,
+as Elsie did, the importance and grandeur of pipers. Besides, the
+others were either too freckled, or their cheeks too red.
+
+[Illustration: IAN'S SCHOOL]
+
+Some Scotch children have the complexions of bright sunsets. Ian liked
+Elsie's bonny face, with the few little freckles on her nose, and her
+sunny smile.
+
+This morning Elsie overtook him as he was marching to his own silent
+drone of pipes.
+
+"Do not march so, Ian. The children will be laughing at you when you
+reach the school. I heard them saying you're daft about pipers, and I
+thought I'd tell you," she said.
+
+Ian looked down into the little maiden's blue eyes. She, too, was
+dressed in a kilt. She wore over it a red jersey.
+
+Unlike Ian, she did not have the sporran. That is what the Scotch call
+the piece of fur hanging down in front of the kilt. Each child's kilt
+was, however, pinned on the side with a large safety pin--which is the
+style in wearing kilts.
+
+[Illustration: KILTED SCHOOL CHILDREN]
+
+Elsie's hair was done in two braids, which hung down her back. Though
+he resented what she told him, Ian thought she was very sweet. For she
+looked at him in a way that made his resentment soon fade.
+
+Smiling, he said, "Thanks, Elsie. I'll not march now."
+
+Silently they walked together. Ian was very near telling his little
+friend about his dreams.
+
+But while he was weighing the probable outcome of such a move, the
+school bell rang. It was half past nine, the time that school in
+Scotland starts in the springtime. Ian and Elsie ran.
+
+At one o'clock, Ian went home to his lunch. Elsie stayed, for her home
+was far away. She brought her "piece," which is what the Scotch
+children call their lunch. No doubt the word refers to their piece of
+bread, which, with an apple, is sometimes all they get.
+
+At home, Ian's mother always had waiting for him a plate of Scotch
+broth, potatoes, and sometimes an apple tart. After school Ian was
+drawn to the bridge.
+
+The work at home was not pressing to-day. Father was away with the
+sheep. Mother did not need Ian. His heart was light as he started off
+for the old brig. He walked along with the hope of adventure, while in
+his ears the imaginary sound of pipes played.
+
+"Ian, wait," called Elsie, and ran after him.
+
+Ian stopped and remembered that he had almost told her. How could a wee
+lass like that understand? No. He would not speak. What was more, he
+would not let her come along, for he knew that was what she wanted to
+do.
+
+"Are you going fishing from the brig?" asked Elsie blithely.
+
+"Ay," answered Ian sulkily, as he stepped ahead of her.
+
+"May I go with you, Ian?" queried the small girl.
+
+"No, Elsie. You're too wee for fishing, and you scare the fish."
+
+Elsie's lip quivered. Ian feared she would cry right out on the road.
+Then what would he do?
+
+"Ach, don't cry, lass. Run home to your mother, for 'tis late for you
+to be out, and she'll be worried."
+
+It was all said kindly but much too eagerly. Elsie, who was keen, did
+not doubt for a moment that she was not wanted.
+
+She ran off, while Ian, with a sigh--sad to say, of relief--ran to his
+home. He kissed his mother, took down his fishing rod, and was off for
+fish and dreams.
+
+At the bridge, adventure indeed awaited him, had he but known. He
+settled himself in his favorite place and threw his line down into the
+river. Little did he suspect what was to happen.
+
+Singing to himself, he waited. A tug on his line! So soon? Ah, the fish
+were biting well to-day. Mother would be pleased. What a big fish and
+how it pulled! Ian struggled for several minutes, and then up came his
+prize.
+
+But what sort of fish was this? It looked like a fuzzy ball of brown
+fur. As it came up closer, Ian saw that it was a bear--a toy bear. It
+was undoubtedly the property of a certain Elsie Campbell!
+
+"Out, you wee devil, out!" cried Ian, standing up and looking down
+under the bridge for his tormentor.
+
+There she was, and her laugh was most annoying to Ian. He was
+scolding, and at the same time trying to undo the hook from the toy
+bear's fur.
+
+"Come up here, you wee devil!" repeated Ian furiously.
+
+Up came the culprit. Ian had to join in her laughter, though he shook
+his finger at her the while. She sat down beside him happily.
+
+"Ian, do you believe in the devil?" she asked.
+
+"Ay, do I," he answered. "'Tis yerself."
+
+"No." Elsie shook her head seriously. "Do you know, I believe 'tis like
+Santa Claus. 'Tis your own father!"
+
+"Ach, Elsie," laughed Ian, at the child's idea. "You know that Santa
+Claus brings you dolls and toy bears and--"
+
+Ian did not go on to complete the list, for just then he heard a sound
+that made his heart beat faster. Jumping down from the wall, he looked
+up the road. Coming toward him was Sandy!
+
+How Elsie ever disappeared Ian never knew. Disappear she did quickly.
+Afterwards, when Ian thought it over, it seemed that fairies had
+snatched her away.
+
+Whatever happened, she was not there when Sandy and Ian greeted each
+other. It was probably her woman's instinct, which bade her leave
+these two to their men's affairs!
+
+[Illustration: SANDY ARRIVES]
+
+How happy was Ian as his kind old friend seated himself by Ian's side
+with the same boyish leap!
+
+"Well, Ian, lad," said Sandy, "the same bonny Aberfoyle, the same
+bonny laddie! And do you have the same bonny dreams?"
+
+"Ach, Sandy, more than ever before. And have you traveled far since
+last I saw you?"
+
+"Ay, that have I, and many's the tale I'll tell you this day. But first
+I must show you something."
+
+Beckoning Ian to his cart, Sandy pointed to a bundle wrapped up in his
+coat.
+
+Tenderly unwrapping it, the old piper pulled out a young lamb, dirty,
+thin, and bleating.
+
+"'Tis a poor hurt beastie, Ian," he said. "I found it on the road. Its
+mother is dead, and it was left to die, too. I picked it up and now
+cannot care for it, as I'm wandering and have no place to keep it."
+
+"Ach, Sandy, couldn't I keep the wee beastie for you?" asked Ian
+eagerly.
+
+Sandy stroked his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"You could, laddie. But 't would be a while till I return--maybe not
+till next spring. And a lamb with no mother is a care."
+
+"Ach, Sandy," cried the boy, "let me do it for you. I could feed it
+with my wee sister's nursing bottle."
+
+"Ach, ay, laddie! Your mother would like that fine!" laughed Sandy.
+"But," he continued soberly, "if you would keep the wee creature, I
+could give you something for your trouble."
+
+"No, Sandy. I would keep it for you, and gladly."
+
+Sandy was still dubious. He was worried for fear the boy's father would
+object to a charge of this kind. The lamb would need tender nursing and
+careful watching.
+
+Sometimes small boys grow careless, although their intentions are of
+the best. Then the task falls to Father or Mother.
+
+As Sandy was revolving these thoughts in his mind, he suddenly had a
+plan.
+
+"Ian," he said, "do you remember the story I told you of the pipers at
+Dunblane?"
+
+"I've thought of little else, Sandy," replied Ian, as he stroked the
+lamb. The little creature was nestling down comfortably in Sandy's
+arms.
+
+"Well, lad, uncover the plaid on my cart and see what I have there."
+
+Ian turned back the bit of plaid covering the cart. Sandy used it to
+protect his personal belongings.
+
+"Two sets o' pipes, Sandy!" exclaimed Ian.
+
+"Ay! One was given me by a man for a service. It is not so bonny as
+mine but might do for a laddie learning to play!"
+
+"Sandy, do you mean--?" Ian cried.
+
+"Ay, lad. In the spring when I return, if this wee beastie is fine, and
+you have done your duty like a true shepherd, then you shall have the
+pipes!"
+
+"Sandy, Sandy, is it true? May I be a piper and play the pipes like the
+laddies in Dunblane? Ach, Sandy!"
+
+Ian was almost mad with joy. For a moment he forgot what service he was
+to render in return for this great reward. But remembering his charge,
+he carefully lifted the little lamb out of Sandy's arms.
+
+He held it tenderly in his own, and said, "You'll find the wee beastie
+well and fat when you return in the spring, Sandy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THROUGH SCOTLAND WITH SANDY
+
+
+The warm air of spring was pleasant. The Craig family's supper was
+spread out before the door of their cottage. They ate outdoors so that
+they could enjoy the beauties of the evening.
+
+It would not be dark here until very late. Ian's father could sit
+before his cottage door, reading his paper by daylight until almost
+eleven o'clock.
+
+Now it was only seven. Mrs. Craig was ringing a bell, which echoed
+through the hills.
+
+This was the way she called her husband and son to the evening meal.
+
+Toward her came Ian, and some one was with him. Mrs. Craig strained her
+eyes to see, but she could not make out the stranger's figure.
+
+As they came closer, Ian ran toward his mother, calling, "Mother, I've
+brought Sandy to tea!"
+
+The old piper politely removed his cap and stood before Ian's mother.
+
+"Your son has brought home an old traveler, mistress," he said.
+
+Mrs. Craig smiled and, shaking Sandy's hand, said, "And glad I am, for
+a friend of Ian's is welcome to the house of his mother. Sit down,
+sir."
+
+Ian told his mother the story of the lamb.
+
+[Illustration: BARRIE'S "WINDOW IN THRUMS"]
+
+He explained how, if he performed his task, he would by next spring be
+the owner of bagpipes.
+
+Mrs. Craig smiled at Sandy and said, "You trust the laddie, sir?"
+
+Sandy MacGregor replied, "Ay; for will he not be a piper in the band
+one fine day?"
+
+Alan Craig and Roy soon returned, and Sandy was introduced to them.
+
+After the little repast, Ian beckoned Sandy to him. Nodding his head
+toward the hills, he said, "Come away and tell now about your travels
+through Scotland, Sandy."
+
+The two sat on the hill and watched the smoke curling up from the
+cottage chimney. And while Sandy smoked his pipe he told Ian once more
+of his wondrous adventures.
+
+Traveling through Scotland is like going through many different
+countries. For Scotland's beauties are varied. Here in the hollow is a
+lovely, quaint village. Its thatched roofs and white walled cottages
+make a picture sweet to behold.
+
+As you go along, soon you pass the peaceful, hilly country and come to
+rocky, steep, and rugged land. You might be in the mountains, for it is
+wild and desolate except for the sheep, which are everywhere.
+
+Around a corner, another village looms into space. This one is cold and
+bleak. You pass through it without sight or sound of human beings. Its
+buildings are tall, stony, and gray. In the center is a pump, where the
+people come to draw their water, but no one is about.
+
+With a shiver you pass on. As you gradually leave the village behind,
+you find yourself again in pastoral land. Thatched cottages come into
+view. Bluebells begin to dot the road. How sweet is the smell of hay
+and cows and clover!
+
+Once more a village, and now you wonder whether this can be the same
+country. For in the narrow streets are children, dogs, women, peasants,
+bicyclists, and more children.
+
+Little girls walk along knitting. Everyone is walking in the middle of
+the cobbled street. Sandy has difficulty in going through the crowd
+with his cart.
+
+This is Kurrimuir, better known as Thrums. It is the scene of many of
+J. M. Barrie's delightful stories. Here on the corner is the dear
+little cottage made famous by Barrie's "A Window in Thrums."
+
+[Illustration: BOYS PLAY CRICKET IN SCOTLAND]
+
+Passing a field, Sandy stops to watch some boys playing cricket. This
+game is very popular in Scotland. All the boys play it, just as
+American boys play baseball.
+
+Doune Castle! Sandy climbs over the fence and starts up toward the
+towering mass of rock. He thinks of the many battles fought around this
+ancient stronghold. It was here that King Robert Bruce made some of
+Scotland's history.
+
+Stirling Castle! Another massive stone memorial of the days of
+Scotland's stormy wars.
+
+Sandy passes on until he comes to the city of Perth. Here he stops
+before the old, old house in which lived "The Fair Maid of Perth," made
+famous by Sir Walter Scott.
+
+[Illustration: DOUNE CASTLE]
+
+In St. Andrews is the oldest golf links in the world. From everywhere
+people come to play the royal and ancient game. It is said that no
+course is at all like the old course at St. Andrews.
+
+As you perhaps know, golf originated in Scotland. St. Andrews is the
+place where it started. Some say that it was first begun by the
+shepherds. It is thought that they used to knock small stones with
+their crooks as they strolled behind their sheep.
+
+On went Sandy to Melrose. He passed the Eildon Hills where King Arthur
+and his knights are supposed to be buried. This is the spot where, 'tis
+said, Sir Walter Scott used to stop his horses every day.
+
+He paused here because he loved to look at the glorious view behind.
+His horses knew the spot so well that they would stop here of their own
+accord. On the day of Sir Walter's funeral, when they were taking his
+body to the Abbey, the horses stopped once more.
+
+In Alloway is the house where the great Scotch poet, Robert Burns,
+lived. Every day it is shown to hundreds of visitors, who pay to go in
+and look at the curious old place.
+
+Its quaint furniture and interesting manuscripts and pictures are all
+connected with the beloved poet. In the gardens are statues
+representing many of the characters in Burns' poems. "Poosie Nancy,"
+"Tam O' Shanter," and many others are there.
+
+Another town made famous by a Scottish character is Maxwelltown, or
+Maxwelton, where Annie Laurie lived.
+
+Passing an ancient graveyard, Sandy stops to marvel at some huge slabs
+of iron. These are still kept to show how, in the seventeenth century,
+the dead were held down in their graves.
+
+[Illustration: THE HOME OF "THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH"]
+
+These heavy slabs were put on top of the dead. This was done to keep
+them from being dug up by robbers. The thieves would steal and sell
+them to doctors and medical students.
+
+The signing of the Covenant was to Scotland what the signing of the
+Declaration of Independence was to America. It was the beginning of
+freedom!
+
+James VI of Scotland tried to force the people into his own religious
+beliefs. They refused to be led. On the first day of March, 1768, in
+the Old Greyfriars Churchyard, the Covenant was signed.
+
+The signing was done on a flat gravestone, which is there to this day.
+And so, just as America has a Liberty Bell, Scotland has a Liberty
+Stone.
+
+As Sandy's old handcart rattles through each little Scottish town, he
+is impressed with the many bookshops he sees in his country. The Scotch
+are enthusiastic readers. Their love and desire for education are
+national traits.
+
+Often Sandy passes young boys or young girls sitting by the roadside,
+absorbed in their books. The colleges and schools of Scotland are fine
+indeed.
+
+When Sandy asks a direction, he is sure to receive a courteous reply.
+The children who come to his side are polite and kind and anxious to
+help. They will gladly do what they can for a stranger and do not ask
+any pay in return.
+
+Over many stores and buildings Sandy reads names which start with
+"Mac," such as MacNiel and MacKenzie. He smiles as he thinks about
+these names. He knows that these people, like himself, are the
+descendants of the old clan leaders.
+
+They gave the name "Mac," which means "son of," to their children. So,
+if a clan leader was named Gregor, the children of his clan would be
+MacGregor. In the olden days, the word "clan," which comes from an old
+Gaelic word meaning "children," was like a great family. Their chief
+was like a father, whom they all obeyed.
+
+To-day, you no doubt know people named MacDonald, MacRae, etc. These
+are the descendants of the "clansmen," as they were called.
+
+Each clan has a tartan of its own. A tartan is what you would probably
+call plaid. It is the heathery mixture of many colors and designs.
+
+Each tartan is different from every other. To-day in Scotland you will
+see the children wearing kilts or ties or tams made of their own family
+tartan.
+
+The town of Paisley is famous for its Paisley shawls. These are very
+much admired by all the world and worn by ladies of fashion.
+
+The Shetland shawls, also famous, are dear to old ladies, because they
+are soft and warm. The Shetland ponies are dear to children, for they
+are so little that they are more like large dogs than like horses. Both
+come from the Shetland Islands, which are north of Scotland and are
+ruggedly wild.
+
+Through all of Sandy's travels he never saw the thistle, which is
+supposed to grow so thickly in Scotland. The thistle, as you perhaps
+know, is used on Scottish crests and banners. No doubt it existed, long
+ago, but to-day it is nowhere to be found.
+
+Here is Loch Drunkie, a queer name with a queer history. It was on the
+shores of this lake that men made whisky--which was against the law.
+
+One day the men saw officers of the law coming toward them. They knew
+that they would be arrested if they were found out. To avoid arrest,
+they emptied their whisky into the lake. People say that the waters
+have remained half whisky from that day to this.
+
+Sandy jogs along toward Aberfoyle. It is the day he delivers his
+injured lamb to the mercies of his young friend. During this time, he
+passes another "loch," the well known and much beloved "Loch Lomond."
+
+Sandy stops on the shore. He gazes below on the shining blue waters,
+upon which ply the tiny white steamers. He shoulders his bagpipes and
+plays the melody known in every clime, "On the bonny, bonny banks of
+Loch Lomond." Here the fairies were wont to dwell. A tale is told of
+fairy dyers, who worked for the clans of Loch Lomond in the days of
+yore.
+
+[Illustration: "ON THE BONNY, BONNY BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND"]
+
+A joke was once played upon the wee elfin folk by a boy. The lad asked
+to have the fleece of a black sheep dyed white. Angered by this
+request, the fairies overturned their pots of dye into the lake and
+never more returned.
+
+But the color from their dye turned the lake an unearthly shade of
+blue. This color is different from that of all other lakes, and thus it
+has remained.
+
+Again Sandy pipes:
+
+  "For me and ma true love will never meet again
+  On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+IAN'S BETTY
+
+
+For many weeks after Sandy's departure from Aberfoyle, Ian tended the
+lamb carefully. He fed it from a baby's bottle. The young creature grew
+strong and fat. It would follow the boy around as though it knew him to
+be its nurse.
+
+It was a loving little animal, and Ian became very fond of it. He would
+take it with him when he sat with his father upon the hill where Roy
+guarded the other sheep.
+
+It did not mingle with the others, for it was an orphan. It knew that
+it did not belong with the flock. Sheep are not like people. Human
+beings, seeing a motherless child, would strive to protect it with
+their own young ones.
+
+[Illustration: IAN FED BETTY FROM A NURSING BOTTLE]
+
+So the task of protector and nurse fell to Ian. He loved to feel the
+wee one's soft fur against his cheek as it lay on the hill with him. He
+liked to feed it from its bottle and hear the soft, gurgling noises it
+made.
+
+It amused him to see its tail waggled so rapidly after each mouthful of
+milk. This is the way it showed Ian how well it liked its dinner. And
+as Ian felt the lamb, warm and soft in his arms, he seemed to feel
+there something else--his beloved bagpipes!
+
+Much to the amusement of his parents, Ian called the lamb Betty, his
+baby sister's name. He felt that it was as helpless and young as she.
+
+Very often they both sucked from their nursing bottles at the same
+time. While they were doing this, they looked at each other with big,
+wondering eyes. Ian often sat and admired the pair and laughingly said
+to his mother, "Your baby and my baby, Mother."
+
+So the days flew by, and the summer wore on. Soon the school bell began
+to ring out again. It told the children that another term was
+beginning.
+
+Ian was loth to leave his happy pastimes in field and on hill. However,
+he, like all Scotch children, was anxious to learn. So one morning, he
+strapped his book bag on his back and started off to school.
+
+That was a lonely day for the lamb Betty. She was lonely because her
+young guardian had hardly ever left her side. The lamb was clearly
+worried and bleated unmercifully until Ian returned from school.
+
+[Illustration: IAN HOME FROM SCHOOL]
+
+When, the next day, the same thing happened, Ian's pet could stand it
+no longer and started out to find him.
+
+Every child in the world knows the song about "Mary's little lamb."
+That day, as Betty marched herself up the steps of Ian's schoolhouse, a
+chorus of childish voices sang out:
+
+  "Ian had a wee, wee lamb;
+  It followed him to school!"
+
+There was much merriment as Ian hurriedly packed Betty off to her home.
+Like the teacher in the song, this teacher had difficulty in restoring
+order.
+
+It was also a flushed and embarrassed Ian who returned to his
+classroom. That evening he lectured Betty upon behavior for lambs!
+
+However, Betty was either disobedient or else too young to understand
+Ian's lecture. The next day she tried to repeat her performance. She
+started off on a gallop to find her young master. I say, "tried," for
+alas, this time poor Betty could not find Ian's school!
+
+For many hours she wandered about. She went farther and farther, not
+only from school but from home. Evening fell, and Betty was bleating
+alone in a dense forest--lost!
+
+At last Ian returned from school. For several moments, he could not
+understand why Betty did not come to meet him. He stood and gazed
+about. Then a terrible thought came to him.
+
+[Illustration: LOST!]
+
+Rushing to his father on the hillside, he asked excitedly for his pet.
+Alan Craig shook his head sadly.
+
+"I've sent Roy again, laddie, but he's returned once alone. I fear the
+beastie is lost."
+
+Lost! Ian's world fell about him. The sound of distant bagpipes seemed
+to resound dully in his ears. The words of Sandy came to him through
+the dim: "In the spring, if this beastie is fine, and you have done
+your duty--"
+
+His duty! And poor Betty! Where could she be? A little lonely creature,
+more baby than animal, tended so carefully, and unused to the thorns
+and sharp rocks of the hills--alone and lost!
+
+"Father!" was all that Ian could gasp. Just then he saw Roy coming
+toward them, his tail between his legs. An expression of failure was in
+his shepherd eyes.
+
+"Roy, lad, can you not find her?" asked Ian.
+
+Ian threw his school books off his back. Kneeling, he put his arms
+around the neck of Roy. Roy answered in his own way. It was as clear to
+Ian as though the dog had cried out to him, "No, laddie, she's lost,
+lost!"
+
+And if a sheep was lost to Roy, it was indeed a lost sheep! For the
+clever dog would smell a sheep for many miles. He would, in fact,
+encounter any danger to bring a straggler back to the fold.
+
+Still, thought Ian, Betty was not really one of the fold. It was
+possible that Roy's experience did not fit him to scent out tame pets.
+
+"I'm going to look, Father," shouted the heartbroken boy.
+
+Calling Roy, he started off on a run. The father shook his head and
+felt a great pity for his little son.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ALAN CRAIG TELLS A STORY
+
+
+The word "Betty" resounded in the hills many times that evening. The
+lights in the village were already lighted when a tired, heartsick boy,
+followed by a sympathetic sheep dog, returned to the Craig cottage.
+
+There they were awaited by Alan Craig. The lad stumbled blindly into
+the house.
+
+He found his father with a candle in his hand, waiting to lead the
+disappointed boy to his bed.
+
+Ian cried himself to sleep that night. Roy, the dog, sat beside him
+and mourned for the lost member of the little household.
+
+The next day and the next were spent in searching the hills, the
+fields, and the forest. Fortunately for Ian, they were Saturday and
+Sunday, and he did not have to go to school.
+
+He arose before the dawn and did not return until evening. But it was
+always the same. Betty was nowhere to be found. Though Ian and Roy
+hunted in every conceivable place, the lamb had disappeared.
+
+On Monday, Ian was forced to relinquish his hunt and go to school.
+Immediately after school he called to Roy and was off again.
+
+"The lad hardly eats his meals, he's so troubled!" said Mrs. Craig to
+her husband, as she shook her head.
+
+Alan bit his pipe in silence, while his heart bled for Ian.
+
+Alan had been training a new dog for the sheep. He was using this dog
+instead of Roy, who was allowed to stay with Ian and help him in his
+search.
+
+But this meant added work for Alan, who had to be on the watch. He
+could not leave his charges completely in the care of this new helper,
+as he had done with Roy. Many times the new dog frightened the sheep.
+They soon became panicky and ran in all directions.
+
+Then the dog forgot all of Alan's training and ran after them wildly.
+Alan always had to come himself to restore order.
+
+One day he tramped miles to recover a terrified mother and her baby.
+After this long walk, Alan sat on the hillside.
+
+Meanwhile the new dog looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and
+dropped his tail because he was ashamed.
+
+As the shepherd sat smoking, he saw his son coming toward him, followed
+by Roy. Ian threw himself down beside his father. Letting his head sink
+upon the shepherd's knee, he gave up the search.
+
+"'Tis weary I am, Father," he sighed. "The search is over, and my wee
+lamb is gone."
+
+[Illustration: IAN GIVES UP THE SEARCH]
+
+"And your pipes, Ian? Are they to be lost, too?" queried the shepherd.
+
+"Ay," answered his son, "for Sandy said, 'If you tend the wee creature
+well till spring!' Now Sandy will return in the spring, and there'll be
+no creature."
+
+For a few moments Alan Craig smoothed Ian's curly black hair. The boy
+tried hard to hold back his sobs, which were nearly choking him.
+
+Then Alan Craig spoke. "Ian, lad, have you not heard the story of Bruce
+and the spider?"
+
+"Ay, Father," replied Ian. "'Tis in my history book."
+
+"Then mind well while I repeat it to you. For King Robert Bruce was a
+great man, and he never gave up!"
+
+Ian listened intently while his father recounted the well-known tale.
+He told how, many, many years ago, King Robert Bruce had fought with
+the English and lost numerous battles. One night, he was lying
+despondent on a rude couch in his tent on the battlefield.
+
+[Illustration: KING BRUCE AND THE SPIDER]
+
+His heart was heavy with the memory of his lost battles and of the
+suffering throughout his country. Just then his eye fell upon a spider
+in the corner of the tent. The industrious little creature was trying
+to fix its web to the top pole of the tent. It had already made six
+attempts, but each time it had fallen.
+
+King Bruce bethought him of his lost battles. Six! He and the spider
+had failed six times. And now he, King Bruce, was about to give up!
+Would the spider also be downed, or would it, perhaps, persevere once
+more?
+
+King Bruce made a vow to himself. He decided that, should the wee
+creature try again to fix its web and be successful, then he, Robert
+Bruce, would profit by the spider's lesson and fight another battle!
+
+The spider made another attempt. Slowly it raised its shadowy body
+until, quivering in the air, it balanced itself for the final plunge.
+The King raised himself on his elbow and watched. A nation awaited that
+spider's success or failure!
+
+Again it plunged, caught at the pole, and fixed its web! King Robert
+Bruce jumped to his feet. He threw his plaid about him and began his
+preparations for the greatest battle in Scottish history, the Battle of
+Bannockburn.
+
+As everyone knows, he routed the English at this famous battle. Never
+afterward would the great King give up!
+
+[Illustration: ALAN TELLS THE STORY OF KING BRUCE AND THE SPIDER]
+
+"So should we all feel, Ian," said Alan Craig as he finished his tale.
+
+"From the King to the spider!" Though Ian had heard the story often
+before, it now held a new meaning for him. He looked up at his father.
+
+Then he stood erect and called to his dog, "Come, Roy; we'll try
+again!"
+
+He was soon off through the hills once more.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+PIPERS AND TROUBLES
+
+
+At the beginning of that same summer, Jamie Robinson, Aberfoyle's
+piper, became restless. Jamie was not a steady man. He had never been a
+good provider. His poor wife and babies were often hungry and cold in
+the stormy winter months.
+
+Jamie Robinson earned his living by his piping. He marched back and
+forth through the village street, playing his bagpipes. He hoped that
+the noisy, celebrating crowds, which arrived from Glasgow, would like
+his music and throw him pennies.
+
+When the people were generous, his family might have a good dinner. But
+often Jamie Robinson did not bring the money home to his family.
+Unfortunately Jamie, who was a weak man, was often led by some of the
+village men into public houses. Here men gamble and drink.
+
+Sometimes poor Mrs. Robinson waited until very late for her husband to
+come home. When at last he arrived, he came penniless.
+
+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 pronounced
+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!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IAN TRIES AGAIN
+
+
+Ian was once more in search of Betty. The story of King Bruce echoed in
+his ears and spurred him on. Roy, too, seemed to be inspired with new
+hope. He sniffed and ran, and ran and sniffed. Every once in a while,
+he would let out short, sharp barks.
+
+"Do not weary yourself, lad," said Ian. "We have long to go this day,
+and we'll not give up."
+
+With these words the boy began to whistle. A happiness seemed to come
+suddenly to him as though he already had Betty safe in his arms.
+
+For many hours the boy and dog climbed and walked. At last they found
+themselves in a wild, rugged portion of the country, where Ian had
+never before been. Rocks were all about him. He descended into giant
+caverns.
+
+He called, "Betty!" and received only an echo for reply. He went
+farther until it was so late that he could not think of returning home.
+He would surely lose his way in the darkness, if he attempted it. So he
+curled himself up between two massive rocks and, with Roy nestling
+close to his side, fell fast asleep.
+
+[Illustration: IAN, BETTY AND ROY]
+
+At dawn, Ian was awakened by Roy. The dog was barking and making wild
+dashes in the direction of a large gulch near by.
+
+He ran madly to the gulch, then dashed back again to Ian. His barks
+came in hysterical gasps.
+
+Ian ran with Roy to the edge of the gulch. Looking down, the boy saw a
+terrible sight. Hanging on to a ragged ledge was a large mother sheep.
+It was one of his own father's, as he could see by the markings on the
+wool. The poor creature was bleating. A few feet above the ledge stood
+her baby lamb.
+
+At each of Roy's barks, the mother sheep gave a little jump, and the
+ledge of rock quivered. Ian thought surely it would break and the sheep
+would be dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
+
+"Down, down!" commanded Ian in the same voice as his father used to the
+dog.
+
+Roy crouched and whined, but stopped his barking. Ian remembered that
+some of the mother sheep distrusted the dog. So it would be impossible
+for Roy to show himself now. What must be done must be done by Ian
+himself.
+
+While the boy climbed down the precipitous rocks, the faithful dog,
+deprived of his rightful work, whined and howled. Had he not been
+trained to obey, he would never have stayed. But to a shepherd dog, a
+master's word is law. Roy watched his young friend as the boy made the
+perilous descent to rescue the terrified animal on the ledge.
+
+The sheep was large, and its wool weighed heavily. But Ian grasped the
+creature firmly. With all his might, he pulled until he had it on the
+rock above. When the baby lamb saw its mother coming, it uttered loud,
+joyous bleatings.
+
+Ian could only think that the sheep had been led astray by his father's
+new dog. He was worried for fear that there were others which had
+strayed beyond. He decided to see, and started off beyond the rock
+hill.
+
+But when Roy began to drive the mother sheep along, she became very
+angry. She ran at him with her head lowered. Roy could not manage her.
+She refused to obey him and Ian.
+
+The boy, who carried a crook like his father's, was forced to resort to
+the only means of bringing her to order. With a quick sweep of the
+crook, he caught the baby sheep. He lifted it in his arms.
+
+"Now, you'll come away," he said to the mother, as he walked on.
+Snorting, the mother sheep was forced to follow.
+
+On and on walked Ian and Roy. And now the hunt was not only for Betty,
+but for more of his father's herd. Ian thought he would find some that
+might have been led astray by the new dog.
+
+At noon he sat down to eat his "piece," which he carried in his
+sporran. When he had finished, he started for a clear stream near by.
+
+As he approached, he thought he saw one of the grayish rocks in the
+stream moving. He rubbed his eyes. Could it be a reflection from the
+water? No. It was moving slowly.
+
+Ian approached faster. What was his amazement at finding the gray rock
+to be his own Betty! It was his Betty, thin and ragged, and stumbling
+along on her front knees, too weak to raise her feet. Poor little
+beast!
+
+She was nearly dead. As Ian raised her up, he realized that he had
+found her just in time. The creature seemed to know the boy, for she
+nestled down in his arms as of yore. In spite of her suffering, she
+seemed perfectly happy, now that her Ian was found.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+SPRING
+
+
+Spring! Each day found an eager, watchful boy, a happy, sweet-faced
+sheep dog, and a large fleecy lamb standing on the Rob Roy Brig. They
+were awaiting in glad anticipation a visitor, who was expected and
+whose music would soon reach the happy ears of a future piper.
+
+Ian Craig had never allowed his Betty to roam after that frightful
+episode. She had been kept in a little corral, which Ian built for her.
+When he came home from school, he took her with him to the brig. He
+fastened her to a massive rock, while he awaited the return of Sandy.
+
+[Illustration: BETTY AWAITS SANDY'S RETURN]
+
+Betty was now almost as fat and big as the other sheep. She was a
+credit to the boy's good care. So proud of her was Ian that he often
+tied a lovely tartan ribbon about her neck. He combed her wool
+tenderly each day before he started off for the brig.
+
+Day after day, the two waited. Meanwhile, Roy looked on with kindly
+eyes, although he did not understand it all. Of course, Betty was
+equally ignorant of why she was made to pose with a floppy bow around
+her neck, tied to an annoying rock. But she was content, for Ian stayed
+beside her.
+
+Sometimes as Ian watched and waited, he thought he heard the bagpipes
+in the distance. And as he heard, his heart beat faster. The moment of
+bliss when he could claim his reward, seemed to be upon him.
+
+Then he often looked at Betty, and a qualm seized him. How could he
+part with the lamb? He had been through trouble and sorrow for the
+little animal. He had lived many happy hours by her side. It was as
+though she had become his own. The thought of parting from her was like
+a stab. Then, too, Betty loved him.
+
+At these times, the poor little boy would knit his brow and ponder upon
+the strangeness of life.
+
+Then he thought of the pipers and the tale of Dunblane, where the
+stalwart lads marched and played. He thought of the glorious piper
+bands marching in the big towns. The thought made him brighten and
+jump from the brig and scan the country for a sign of Sandy.
+
+But the days of budding blossoms and showers in Scotland wore on.
+Finally Betty's ribbon bow began to fade and Ian's patience to wear.
+
+Little Elsie Campbell used at times to walk with the boy to the brig.
+Often he stopped on the walk and talked to her, as he cocked his head
+on one side.
+
+"Do you not hear the din of pipes, Elsie?" he asked.
+
+And the wee lassie shook her head and said, "Ach, no, lad. 'Tis daft
+you are with your pipes!"
+
+But it was said kindly, for Elsie hoped and prayed that Sandy would
+return. You see, Ian had told her the story of Betty and how he waited
+for the promised pipes. It was, in fact, Elsie who had first tied the
+silken tartan ribbon about the lamb's neck.
+
+It was a gray day which promised rain. Ian and Betty neared the brig
+together. Ian had just tied the creature to her accustomed rock and was
+lifting himself to the wall when he heard a sound. Pipes! Unmistakably
+pipes!
+
+Still, he had been mistaken so often before that he dared not look. And
+Elsie was not there to-day. She would have told him. For in her ears
+the sound was not always droning as it had been in Ian's for many
+days.
+
+He had not told his mother for fear of worrying her. But his head was
+often heavy, and he could not sleep with the sound of the bagpipes.
+Poor little Ian! If only Sandy would return!
+
+On this dull, misty day as he swung his feet from the wall of the brig,
+Ian could not stop the sound. Nearer and nearer it came!
+
+Then, "Bonny laddie, Highland laddie," chanted the pipes. Ian looked up
+and saw standing before him his Sandy!
+
+Although he was as red and wrinkled and twinkling as before, there was
+a change. Sandy was very shabby. His coat was stained with the mud and
+rain of many hard days.
+
+He stopped his playing and stood before the boy. A sad, longing look
+came into his eyes.
+
+"Ian, lad," he said slowly, "'tis Sandy come back."
+
+And Ian suddenly realized that it was all true and not one of his
+dreams. He jumped down from the wall and threw his arms about Sandy.
+
+"Ach, Sandy," he cried. Then he stood back and pointed to the lamb.
+Evidently Sandy had not noticed it.
+
+"And do you not see our beastie, Sandy? 'Tis the same you left with me,
+and well and fat she is."
+
+Sandy turned and looked at Betty. But he did not talk as Ian had
+expected him to, nor did he compliment Ian on the lamb's well-being.
+He only stood fingering his pipes and slowly shaking his head.
+
+[Illustration: "SANDY HIMSELF WILL TEACH YOU TO PLAY"]
+
+As Ian stared in wonderment, the piper lifted his bagpipes from his
+shoulder and handed them to the boy.
+
+"Your pipes are here, lad, and Sandy keeps his promise!" he said.
+
+Without thinking Ian put out his arms to receive the instrument. His
+eyes, however, did not leave his friend's face.
+
+"But, Sandy, these are your own pipes you're giving me!" he said, as if
+he could hardly believe it, after looking down at what Sandy had placed
+in his arms.
+
+"Ay, lad," answered Sandy, "and now you can be a fine piper, and Sandy
+himself will teach you to play."
+
+Then Sandy told Ian the sad story of Jamie Robinson. He explained how
+he had sold nearly all his worldly goods to help the little family and
+put them on their feet again. He told of how he had left them
+comfortably settled near a prosperous village. He had made Jamie
+promise to work and save for his little brood.
+
+Sandy also told how he had come all the way to keep his promise to the
+boy. He said, too, that now, as in Aberfoyle there was no piper, he
+expected to stay here and take Jamie Robinson's place if Ian would lend
+him his pipes each day for awhile. And in return, he would teach the
+lad to play!
+
+"For I'm not so young as I was, laddie, and the wandering life is over
+for me," he added.
+
+When Ian heard these plans, he was beside himself with joy. He hugged
+first Sandy, then Roy, and then Betty. At last the piper became his old
+jolly self once more and laughed.
+
+"Ay, lad, we'll share the pipes together, though they belong to you.
+But old Sandy will have to make a living, and he'll teach you all the
+tunes he knows!"
+
+No happier boy than Ian Craig lived in Scotland that night. Standing
+before the door of the cottage, he puffed and blew on his pipes. There
+issued forth the sound of a thousand sheep all bleating at once but all
+in pain! Sandy listened from his tent on the hill opposite and chuckled
+to himself.
+
+Roy was also in pain as he listened. His delicate ears were unused to
+this shrieking and squealing. He joined in the din with loud howls.
+
+The baby within the house was in sympathy, too, and added her wails.
+
+So Sandy's first evening as a resident in Aberfoyle was not a quiet
+one. He was forced to stop his ears.
+
+Mrs. Craig was unable to stand the racket. So she pulled her puffing
+son into the house and packed him off to bed, to the great relief of
+all.
+
+[Illustration: THE SOUND OF HIS PIPES ECHOED BACK THROUGH THE GLEN]
+
+But Ian was a quick and hard-working pupil. It was not long before Roy
+quite approved of the sounds his master made on his pipes. He did not
+then feel it necessary to amend the melody.
+
+Also the baby gurgled with glee. She puffed out her cheeks in imitation
+of Ian and laughed happily. And Betty, the lamb, too, seemed to know
+that all was well. The world was in tune with the wee Scotch piper who
+had, at last, realized his dreams.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "'Tis the close of the day
+    At the foot of the ben,
+  And the sound of his pipes
+    Echoes back through the glen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER
+
+
+It was a cloudless day in the big Scotch city. The people seemed to
+feel that something unusual was about to happen. Everyone wore his
+best, and the city fairly shone with the reds and blues and greens of
+tartan kilts and bonnets.
+
+Soldiers paraded the streets. Children hurried along by their parents'
+sides, anxious to arrive at the big grand stand in time. Numerous
+bystanders flanked the wide street.
+
+All the people were breathless with excitement. Even the usual
+crowding traffic suspended its pushing and shrill tooting. For this
+was a great day in Scotland. Many celebrations occur at intervals in
+this land of excursions and picnics. But to-day was as the children
+would say, "extra special."
+
+The huge grand stand was overcrowded with eager Scotchmen, with their
+wives and bairns. They all strained their eyes for a glimpse of the
+great "kiltie band," which was to march down the street.
+
+Among those who watched, and perhaps the most eager of all, were a
+family of country folk. In bobbing black bonnet sat a calm-faced old
+lady. Beside her was a rugged old man. Both were in their best array.
+Both were longing for the sight they had come miles from their little
+farm to see.
+
+[Illustration: THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER]
+
+The couple were none other than Alan Craig and his wife. The sight that
+their old eyes would soon see, as the happy tears dimmed their view,
+would be their son, their Ian. He was now a tall, manly piper in kilted
+uniform, marching and piping with the flower of Scotland's army.
+
+By their side sat another. His kindly face shone with pride, and in his
+heart was a singing joy.
+
+For Sandy MacGregor had taught this lad to play. It was the same old
+pipes of Sandy MacGregor that he still used. He would soon show those
+pipes to a cheering crowd as his fingers flew over the chanter. While
+he played, his arm would shelter the tartan bellows once sheltered by
+Sandy's own arm as the old piper had wandered over hill and through
+dale.
+
+Sandy MacGregor had lived many years for this moment. As he craned his
+neck for a sight of the coming parade, he spoke to the little girl
+beside him.
+
+"See, Betty, 'tis they coming now."
+
+Betty, Ian's baby sister, was now a girl of the age Ian had been when
+first Sandy had met him.
+
+Together, Betty and Sandy had dreamed and planned the day when
+together they would view their piper laddie on parade.
+
+For Sandy had dwelt in the village of Aberfoyle these many years. While
+he had piped for his living, he had taught another piper, who was now
+to cover his old teacher with glory.
+
+In the large audience there was still another, whose blue eyes danced
+with joy. Her hands were clasped together with excitement as she
+awaited the approach of her boyhood friend. It was little Elsie
+Campbell, now grown to womanhood. Elsie was among those who thrilled to
+see the "wee Scotch piper," as he marched along that day.
+
+Who knows with what feelings of pride the lad looked up as he passed
+that grand stand? Who knows his feelings of love, on seeing those dear
+faces smiling and nodding at him?
+
+And as he marched and played, he seemed to see before him a little
+schoolboy marching and playing. That boy was himself, trudging the
+streets of a wee village, followed by a bleating lamb!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis
+
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