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Updated: June 7, 2025
" 'Oor Bob'!" screamed the little man darting forward. "'Oor Bob'! Hark to him. I'll 'oor At him, Wullie! at him!" But the Tailless Tyke needed no encouragement. With a harsh roar he sprang through the air, only to crash against the closing door! The outer door banged, and in another second a mocking finger tapped on the windowpane.
And the right place for it, say I the Dale Cup for Dalesmen." The little man took the Cup tenderly. "It shall no leave the Estate or ma hoose, yer Leddyship, gin Wullie and I can help it," he said emphatically. Lady Eleanour retreated into the tent, and the crowd swarmed over the ropes and round the little man, who held the Cup beneath his arm. Long Kirby laid irreverent hands upon it.
At first glance, the contest was a draw. But subsequent investigation elicited the fact that Jimmy in his backward fall had bitten his tongue to the effusion of blood. The verdict was therefore awarded, on points, to Wullie, and the spectators dispersed in an orderly manner just as the platoon sergeant came round the traverse to change the sentry.
"And why that?" he asked, following down the hill. "I'll tell yo'. When I wak' this mornin' I walked to the window, and what d'yo' think I see? Why, your Wullie gollopin' like a good un up from the Bottom, all foamin', too, and red-splashed, as if he'd coom from the Screes. What had he bin up to, I'd like to know?"
And close behind, buffeted and bruised, stiff and staggering, a little dauntless figure holding stubbornly on, clutching with one hand at the gale; and a shrill voice, whirled away on the trumpet tones of the wind, crying: 'Noo, Wullie, wi' me! Scots wha' hae wi' Wallace bled! Scots wham Bruce has often led! Welcome to ! "Here he is, Wullie!" or to victorie!" The brave little voice died away.
"It's a gran' thing, Wullie, to ha' a dutiful son; a shairp lad wha has no silly sens o' shame aboot sharpenin' his wits at his auld dad's expense. And yet, despite oor facetious lad there, aiblins we will ha' a hand in the Killer's catchin', you and I, Wullie he! he!" And the great dog at his feet wagged his stump tail in reply.
Yon flooer's the reaping of a seedtime many a hundred years gone by. If ye was tae dig doon an' doon all the day ye'd find yon apple tree buried deep i' th' sand. The last time it fruited was afore Flodden, when Lashcairns were kings " "What, Wullie, a poor old tree buried all those years, pushing up to light like this? How could it?" said Marcella, staring at it fascinated.
"I can't see why a beautiful mind and body shouldn't be part of each other." "You've never been introduced to your body yet, Marcella, nor shaken hands with it. It's never popped up and made faces at you. When it does you'll find folks like Wullie have a good deal to be thankful for. Your father, for instance " He stopped short, coughed loudly and pulled up the horse to a sharp trot. "Yes.
Then, just after this, several things happened to bring her thoughts away from dreams to a realization of herself as a concrete, circumscribed being. Wullie had warned her of this. "Ye're up in the clouds, now, Marcella, like a wraith. Some day ye'll come down to airth. And it'll be with sic' a bang that ye'll find ye're very solid." She had not understood him.
"Wullie, Wullie, to me!" he called. At that, with one last threat thrown at the' thousand souls he had held at bay for thirty minutes, the Tailless Tyke swung about and galloped after his lord. ALL Friday M'Adam never left the kitchen. He sat opposite the Cup, in a coma, as it were; and Red Wull lay motionless at his feet. Saturday came, and still the two never budged.
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