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Upon Bulldog's suggestion, Moossy once provided himself with a cane, but it failed in his hands the first time he tried to use it, which was not at all wonderful, as Jock Howieson, who did not approve of canes, and regarded them as an invention of the Evil One, had doctored Moossy's cane with a horse-hair, so that it split into two at a stroke, and one piece flying back struck Moossy on the face.
"Speug's no dead yet Bailie"; and then, catching the look in MacConachie's face, "bygones are bygones, we're a' Muirtown men the day"; and then his voice rose again across the crowd "I'll give ye odds, coachman two to one against the 'Bumbees'" for Howieson had scored another two, and two more runs would win the match for the Seminary.
Who stands ginger-beer at Lucky MacWhae's, answer me that, Jock, ye meeserable wretch?" and then clinching every argument on "Who paid for the broken glass? I'm doon richt ashamed o' ye, Jock Howieson." "Will ye go yourself, Speug?" demanded Jock, writhing under this torrent of reproach. "I think I see ye writin' an essay on the history o' the Romans, or sic like trash.
"Geranniums!" cried Howieson, who was immensely tickled; "it cowes a'. An' what was the ither flooer 'herbarries'? It's michty; it'ill be poppies an' mustard seed next. Speug, ye'ill be making a book for a present to Bulldog." "Tak care o' yirsel," Bauldie shouted to the Dowbiggins, who were making off, as mass meetings did not agree with them, "an' see ye dinna wet yir feet or dirty yir hands.
His one hope was that, when he had seized the occasion with such dramatic success, the Seminary would not fail to play up and support his rôle, and, although they were cleverer at reality than acting they entered heartily into their opportunity. "Are ye conscious, Peter?" inquired Howieson tenderly, as he stooped over the prostrate figure. "Div ye hear us speakin' to ye?
"Jock Howieson, ye're to tak' thirty swank fellows that can run and are no 'feart to be left alane. Ye'll rin round by the North Street and the Cathedral and come down the top of Breadalbane Street till ye cut off McIntyre's and the Pennies frae their schools.
Old Howieson, with that passion for the sense of possession which thrives best when the realities of possession are slipping away, has posted all his fields with warnings against intrusion. You may not enter this old field, nor walk by this brook, nor climb this hill, for all this belongs, in fee simple, to James Howieson!
It was a pleasant spring morning, and the "marble" season had just begun, when Howieson, after a vicious and well-directed stroke which won him three "brownies," inquired casually whether anybody had seen Bulldog go in; for, notwithstanding the years which came and went, his passing in was always an occasion.
When things were at their highest, and gay spirits like Speug were beginning to conclude that even a big snow fight was nothing to a mouse hunt, and Howieson had been so lifted that he had mounted a desk, not to catch a mouse, but to give a cheer, and was standing there without collar or tie, dishevelled, triumphant, and raised above all the trials of life, the door opened and Bulldog entered.
When his glance lighted on Speug it was with such a cheerful and unhesitating recognition that Speug was almost abashed, and knew for certain that for him at least, there could be no escape; while Howieson, plunging into arithmetic of his own accord for once, calculated rapidly what would be his share of the broken glass.
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