The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1897-02-18
o % a Wn -."@ -
l,|a THERE'S ANE
A-WANTIN'
Br
MBER7 FOSTER:

! miliar playground. But on this dark night
| for every object was shrouded in deepest
| gloom, the heather-grown path to which he
had once been accustomed seemed strange
and uncanny. Ere he realized his danger
| he was knee deep in the heather and the
path was lost.
| But the catastrophe brought laugh to his
| lips. What was a night on the open hills
| to him? He had spent q hundred thus,
| lying out under the sky-thatch, beside old
jamie the shepherd it might be, while the
restless movings or the herded sheep was all
that broke the solemn stiffness. The pas
lures were rough and wide, but he felt no
| fear.
"1'll look about me for place to Sleep"
he muttered. "The old man and jimmy
were right when they advised me to 90
around by Dumfries. But night out here
is nothing"-
Aud then he slipped and found himself
falling over precipice, to the verge of which
he had stumbled in the dark. He caught at
the bushes growing on its side, and thus re-
tarded his fall, but when he reached the
bottom of his 30-foot slide and essayed to
stand he found his ankle sprained SO badly
that to rise was impossible.
"Sure, this is not so fine as I thought :"
he exclaimed, with grean. "If stay here
till morning that ankle will be in fearful
shape. Would knew where Black Jamie's
cabin was from here. Pd try to crawl to it."
But, being now completely turned about,
with no idea of the points of compass, he was
fain to lie there helpless"
"But can shout" he thought. "Mayhap
some farmer body, or shepherd, will hear
me-"
Raising his voice he sent a long, far
reaching cry ringing through the darkness.
Again and again the shout was repeated till
he was hoarse with the apparently fruitless
effort.
But as he was about to give up in disgust
faint cry came ringing up the hillside. He
shouted again, and once more the answering
voice reached his ears.
1t was not a canny sound. The young
laird listened intently for its repetition,
uncertain whether it BODIED i'll or no.
Then it rose again-a long-drawn, wailing
cry-shrill and piping upon the night wind.
He recognized it then. 1t was the call of
the highland shepherd to his faithful dog
when the sheep in his charge have wandered
afar in the darkness or stOrm-familiar
enough to the listener in the years lang
sync.
There's ane a-wantin'!"
luC WdiIIuS cry WAS Cic&TcI HOW, anu u
moment later huge black object bounded
out Of the dense gloom which surrounded
the laird.
He struggled to his knees and seized his
staff. It might be wolf, and the lone
wolves of the highlands are to be feared.
But the sudden baying of the creature reas-
sured him. 1t was the shepherds dog.
The brute thrust its muzzle into his face
and then uttered another cry, this time Of
seeming recognition. The laird added his
own voice to il, as well. and quickly tall
figure, leaning upon a staff, strode out Of the
darkness.
"Wha is it, laddie?" exclaimed a rough
voice, addressing tie dog.
I've lost my way" cried the laird. "My
ankle is sprained so that am unable to walk
Just help me to the nearest shalter, my good
man. You'll not regret it. IF Jamie Saw
telle's cot be aboot here" he added, falling
into the Scotch, tax me there"
The man seemed to notice his words, but
still addressing his dog, said:
Wha is it, laddie? Some ane ye ken, l
ken RIGHT weel. Wud it be tn young mais-
ter, him ye've nae seen this nony year,
ladder"
Is it you, man?" cried the young laird.
It's never Jamie HIMSELF"
without reply, the man gathered him up IN
his arms as though he had been child, and,
with word to the dog, strobe away down
the hillside again. Ere long tiny cottage
at the bottom of the valley was before them.
The man kicked open the door and entered
with his burden.
A brisk fire Of turf on the hearth lit the
interior. The young laird recognized the
room at once. 1t was Jamie's cottage.
But the shepherd himself he would scarcely
have known. "Glower" he looked indeed,
with his matted black locks uncovered by