Bob Son of Battle [19]
little man held a feeble dip-candle in his hand, which lit his sallow face in crude black and white. In the doorway, dimly outlined, was the great figure of Red Wull.
"Whaur ha' ye been the day?" the little man asked. Then, looking down on the white stained face beneath him, he added hurriedly: "If ye like to lie, I'll believe ye."
David was out of bed and standing up in his night-shirt. He looked at his father contemptuously.
"I ha' bin at Kenmuir. I'll not lie for yo' ur your likes," he said proudly.
The little man shrugged his shoulders.
" 'Tell a lee and stick to it,'is my rule, and. a good one, too, in honest England. I for one 'II no think ony the worse o' ye if yer memory plays yer false."
"D'yo' think I care a kick what yo' think o' me?" the boy asked brutally. "Nay; there's 'nough liars in this fam'ly wi'oot me."
The candle trembled and was still again.
"A lickin' or a lie--tak' yer choice!"
The boy looked scornfully down on his father. Standing on his naked feet, he already towered half a head above the other and was twice the man.
"D'yo' think I'm fear'd o' a thrashin' fra yo'? Goo' gracious me!" he sneered. "Why, I'd as lief let owd Grammer Maddox lick me, for all I care."
A reference to his physical insufficiencies fired the little man as surely as a lighted match powder.
"Ye maun be cauld, standin' there so. Rin ye doon and fetch oor little frien' "--a reference to a certain strap hanging in the kitchen. "I'll see if I can warm ye."
David turned and stumbled down the unlit, narrow stairs. The hard, cold boards struck like death against his naked feet. At his heels followed Red Wull, his hot breath fanning the boy's bare legs.
So into the kitchen and back up the stairs, and Red Wull always following.
"I'll no despair yet o' teachin' ye the fifth commandment, though I kill masel' in doin' it!" cried the little man, seizing the strap from the boy's numb grasp.
When it was over, M'Adam turned, breathless, away. At the threshold of the room he stopped and looked round: a little, dim-lit, devilish figure, framed in the door; while from the blackness behind, Red Wull's eyes gleamed yellow.
Glancing back, the little man caught such an expression on David's face that for once he was fairly afraid. He banged the door and hobbled actively down the stairs.
Chapter VII. THE WHITE WINTER
M'ADAM--in his sober moments at least-- never touched David again; instead, he devoted himself to the more congenial exercise of the whiplash of his tongue. And he was wise; for David, who was already nigh a head the taller of the two, and comely and strong in proportion, could, if he would, have taken his father in the hollow of his hand and crumpled him like a dry leaf. Moreover, with his tongue, at least, the little man enjoyed the noble pleasure of making the boy wince. And so the war was carried on none the less vindictively.
Meanwhile another summer was passing away, and every day brought fresh proofs of the prowess of Owd Bob. Tammas, whose stock of yarns anent Rex son of Rally had after forty years' hard wear begun to pall on the loyal ears of even old Jonas, found no lack of new material now. In the Dalesman's Daughter in Silverdale and in the Border Ram at Grammoch-town, each succeeding market day brought some fresh tale. Men told how the gray dog had outdone Gypsy Jack, the sheep-sneak; how he had cut out a Kenmuir shearling from the very centre of Londesley's pack; and a thousand like stories.
The Gray Dogs of Kenmuir have always been equally heroes and favorites in the Dale-land. And the confidence of the Dalesmen in Owd Bob was now invincible. Sometimes on market days he would execute some unaccotmtable maneuvre, and .. strange shepherd would ask: "What's the gray dog at?" To which the nearest Dalesman would reply: "Nay, I canno tell ye! But he's reet enough. Yon's Owd Bob o' Kenmuir."
Whereon the stranger would prick his ears and watch with close attention.
"Yon's Owd Bob o' Kenmuir, is he?" he would say; for already among the faculty the name was becoming
"Whaur ha' ye been the day?" the little man asked. Then, looking down on the white stained face beneath him, he added hurriedly: "If ye like to lie, I'll believe ye."
David was out of bed and standing up in his night-shirt. He looked at his father contemptuously.
"I ha' bin at Kenmuir. I'll not lie for yo' ur your likes," he said proudly.
The little man shrugged his shoulders.
" 'Tell a lee and stick to it,'is my rule, and. a good one, too, in honest England. I for one 'II no think ony the worse o' ye if yer memory plays yer false."
"D'yo' think I care a kick what yo' think o' me?" the boy asked brutally. "Nay; there's 'nough liars in this fam'ly wi'oot me."
The candle trembled and was still again.
"A lickin' or a lie--tak' yer choice!"
The boy looked scornfully down on his father. Standing on his naked feet, he already towered half a head above the other and was twice the man.
"D'yo' think I'm fear'd o' a thrashin' fra yo'? Goo' gracious me!" he sneered. "Why, I'd as lief let owd Grammer Maddox lick me, for all I care."
A reference to his physical insufficiencies fired the little man as surely as a lighted match powder.
"Ye maun be cauld, standin' there so. Rin ye doon and fetch oor little frien' "--a reference to a certain strap hanging in the kitchen. "I'll see if I can warm ye."
David turned and stumbled down the unlit, narrow stairs. The hard, cold boards struck like death against his naked feet. At his heels followed Red Wull, his hot breath fanning the boy's bare legs.
So into the kitchen and back up the stairs, and Red Wull always following.
"I'll no despair yet o' teachin' ye the fifth commandment, though I kill masel' in doin' it!" cried the little man, seizing the strap from the boy's numb grasp.
When it was over, M'Adam turned, breathless, away. At the threshold of the room he stopped and looked round: a little, dim-lit, devilish figure, framed in the door; while from the blackness behind, Red Wull's eyes gleamed yellow.
Glancing back, the little man caught such an expression on David's face that for once he was fairly afraid. He banged the door and hobbled actively down the stairs.
Chapter VII. THE WHITE WINTER
M'ADAM--in his sober moments at least-- never touched David again; instead, he devoted himself to the more congenial exercise of the whiplash of his tongue. And he was wise; for David, who was already nigh a head the taller of the two, and comely and strong in proportion, could, if he would, have taken his father in the hollow of his hand and crumpled him like a dry leaf. Moreover, with his tongue, at least, the little man enjoyed the noble pleasure of making the boy wince. And so the war was carried on none the less vindictively.
Meanwhile another summer was passing away, and every day brought fresh proofs of the prowess of Owd Bob. Tammas, whose stock of yarns anent Rex son of Rally had after forty years' hard wear begun to pall on the loyal ears of even old Jonas, found no lack of new material now. In the Dalesman's Daughter in Silverdale and in the Border Ram at Grammoch-town, each succeeding market day brought some fresh tale. Men told how the gray dog had outdone Gypsy Jack, the sheep-sneak; how he had cut out a Kenmuir shearling from the very centre of Londesley's pack; and a thousand like stories.
The Gray Dogs of Kenmuir have always been equally heroes and favorites in the Dale-land. And the confidence of the Dalesmen in Owd Bob was now invincible. Sometimes on market days he would execute some unaccotmtable maneuvre, and .. strange shepherd would ask: "What's the gray dog at?" To which the nearest Dalesman would reply: "Nay, I canno tell ye! But he's reet enough. Yon's Owd Bob o' Kenmuir."
Whereon the stranger would prick his ears and watch with close attention.
"Yon's Owd Bob o' Kenmuir, is he?" he would say; for already among the faculty the name was becoming