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To Dickson's surprise Dougal seemed to be in good spirits. He began to sing to a hymn tune a strange ditty. "Class-conscious we are, and class-conscious wull be Till our fit's on the neck o' the Boorjoyzee." "What on earth are you singing?" Dickson inquired. Dougal grinned. "Wee Jaikie went to a Socialist Sunday School last winter because he heard they were for fechtin' battles.
"Five laddies, a middle-aged man, and an auld wife," he cried. "Dod, it's pretty hopeless. It's like the thing in the Bible about the weak things of the world trying to confound the strong." "The Bible's whiles richt," Mrs. Morran answered drily. "Come on, for there's no time to lose." The door opened again to admit the figure of Wee Jaikie.
When everything had gone he collected the keys, behind which, in various quarters of the house, three gaolers fumed impotently, and gave them to Wee Jaikie to dispose of in some secret nook. Then he led the two ladies to the verandah, the elder cross and sleepy, the younger alert at the prospect of movement. "Tell me again," she said.
The gate was unlocked, for the warder was busy elsewhere, and they hastened up the avenue. Far off Dickson thought he saw shapes fleeting across the park, which he took to be the shock-troops of his own side, and he seemed to hear snatches of song. Jaikie was giving tongue, and this was what he sang: "Proley Tarians, arise!
His eyes had filled with tears at her news, which we know to have been his habit. When Mrs. Morran, after indulging in a moment of barbaric keening, looked back the road she had come, she saw a small figure trotting up the hill like a terrier who has been left behind. As he trotted he wept bitterly. Jaikie was getting dangerous. HOW MR. McCUNN COMMITTED AN ASSAULT UPON AN ALLY
His pockets had been thoroughly rifled, and he reflected with amusement that he, the well-to-do Mr. McCunn, did not possess at the moment a single copper. But his spirits were soaring, for somehow his escape had given him an assurance of ultimate success. Providence had directly interfered on his behalf by the hand of Wee Jaikie, and that surely meant that it would see him through.
"Govey Dick! but yon was a fecht! Me and Peter Paterson and Wee Jaikie started it, but it was the whole company afore the end. Are ye better, Jaikie?" "Ay, I'm better," said a pallid midget. "He kickit Jaikie in the stomach and Jaikie was seeck," Dougal explained. "That's the three accounted for.
Haste ye, man, and get the rest and awa' and seek him. It'll be the tinklers frae the Dean. I'd gang misel' but my legs are ower auld. Ah, laddie, dinna stop to speir questions. They'll hae him murdered or awa' to sea. And maybe the leddy was wi' him and they've got them baith. Wae's me! Wae's me!" The Die-Hard, who was Wee Jaikie, did not delay.
Peter Paterson was to move from the shrubberies beyond the verandah, Napoleon from the stables, Old Bill from the Tower, while Wee Jaikie and Thomas himself were to advance as if from the Garplefoot, so that the enemy might fear for his communications. "As soon as one o' ye gets into position he's to gie the patrol cry, and when each o' ye has heard five cries, he's to advance.
There was a burly lad who wore trousers much too large for him, and who was known as Peer Pairson, a contraction presumably for Peter Paterson. After him came a lean tall boy who answered to the name of Napoleon. There was a midget of a child, desperately sooty in the face either from battle or from fire-tending, who was presented as Wee Jaikie.
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