The Washington times., 1913-01-05
CHAPTER II.
l Drive Home a Strange Cow.

1
gan to laugh.
And to think will have been sit
ting through the night waiting for
maybe this Don John OF the lad is bu
| human child after all. Forbye, Rori
should be driving In the cows
| Man, Angus said my mother nery
DUSTY, would It be seemly TO send tn
lad out OF a morning when there ma
be a spaniard waiting for him?"
NO., said my fatner, but tn
| blackamoor wouIu not stay the lad .
daylight after letting him be In tn
dark"
protest, my mother let me 20 for tn
| cows. 1t was a fine summer morning
/ although the sun was not up yet.
! was bit sleepy after sitting up late
| and. perhaps, my eyes were not as wild
open as usual when crossed the burr
and called to the cows that were lyini
among the wet buttercups.
Anyway, / had not called twice be
| fore / saw COW that was cominl
toward the gate jump to one side. l
then turned back and shifted at some
Its tail e0citedly. In another momen
a mans head and shoulders appeare,
above the long grass. And there wa
| my Sapniard of the night before,
1 ne not see NE tlrEl, DelIk IO'
| busy rubbing his eyes, stretching hi
arms, running his hands through hi
| tousled black hair. and yawning. And
indeed, he looked as II he had not slep
! long enough
did not know whether to run ol
not; but. remembering his kindly man.
| ners OF the night before, curiosity tool
hold of me. l called the cows again.
The Spainiard looked quickly In my
| direction. Then ! was sure II was Dor
John. He had the same pleasant face
| and the same devil-take-me air, and
when his eyes fell on me ne smiled
with great good nature. He called Out
lin Spanish. i suppose; then, remem-
bering where he was, he said in Eng
lish:
Good morning. little man"
Its a Draw daw," I said bravely
and In In my bravest Sassenach.
80 Aye. sir, said he, wagging his head,
but q sad one"
He got on his feet and came toward
me; wiping the hay wisps from his hose
slashed with heavy silvery stun He
still had no bonnet, but his long sword
was sheathed and swung at his side.
He looked handsomer than on the night
before. and the expression of WEAKNESS
that paled his face did not reach to his
Laughing black eyes and his good-na-
tured mouth. which was half hidden by
a short black Hustache. His beard was
the smallest ever saw on a mans
face; 1t was like as II hairy beetle
nad III on his chin and nestled beneath
his under lip.
He came to a standstill a few yards
from me and surveyed my bare legs.
tattered kilt and frowzy hair. 1 seemed
to be strange sort OF beast, to Judge
oy the amusement OF his face. / gave
Hos wi YEP
At that he put his hands to his sides
and laughed uproariously; but, sud-
denly clapping his palms to his temples,
he gave groan.
And what may be your name, little
man? he presently asked, In English
that was clear enough for me to un-
''Rorie." 1 said; ..ye will be Don John
yerser? l mind meetin' ye last nicht." /"
startled. But his face presently took
on a quizzical look. "WeIl. Rorie. "
said he. I am your prisoner"
did not quite understand this until
ne explained at some length that IL was
a custom to fight and win. or to es-
cape. or to surrender. As he believed
there was little sense In fighting any
more Tor the present. and no way to
escape without starvation. he thought
surrender was the next best thing. So
SAYING, ne unbuckled his long, thin
sword and laughingly handed IL TO me.
hesitated, but decided to take II for
good faith.
And now, Rorie,'' said he. ct am
very hungry, and might have killed and
eaten one OF your COWS If / had
would like something to eat; and IL
there is a stream hereabout, / would
aches.'
! told him there was a burn: and he
helped me drive the cows to IT, for you
no h..
TO get TO the farmhouse When we
came TO a stream, he -kneIt down
among the stones and drank enough
tC satisfy COW. after which he nut i1is
head In the pool and said il was grand,
Between ducks he took a horn from his
belt and said:
"Rorie, IL you love me- mix me a
He said IT so simply and anxiously
that | had not the heart TO refuse. al
thougn the cows should have been in
the byre by this. i said as much to
my Spaniard. but he assured me. say
ing:
Just tell them you met Don JOHN"
az If that name was an excuse for any
thing under the sun.
Now. my father. observing that /
was long away, left the house in a
hurry 10 find out what had become of
me. Presently he came splashing into
the burn.
Heaven forgive us?'' he cried, too
astonished at what he saw to be angry
And what may this be-"
Looking back St il now, ] think II
must have been an odd picture
There were the cows wandering about
the burn. and Don John sitting on a
rock squeezing the water out Of his hair
and whistling a queer but, to me.
tune. while l sat on my hunk
ers under a cow busy milking into a
horn. and with Don Johns sword tuck
ed under my left arm.
Don John stopped whistling. His
hair was as straggly as a crows nest
as he stood up before my father, Ny
father looked at him, and then at me.
He was a slow-thinking man, but not
Kind at heart and generous
Of mind. his judgments were not hasty
II would be troublin' ye. sir.ah,' he
said to Don John. mastering his Eng
lish: II would be troublin' ye to say
wha ye are, whaur we come frae an
what ye may be doin' here?'
Don John replied with that lofty air
Of hts which was never quite free,
from a touch OF banter:
My name is Don John of Murcia, in
Spain, and, as ] hope to prove, am
gentleman. IL an unfortunate one L
am here. by your leave and the gener-
osity of this lad, prisoner Of war"
"Wha's preesoner?" asked my father
"Rorie" was the answer. with per-
feet gravity.
Ny father. still dumbfounded. looked
at Don John, then at me. and finally at
the sword tucked under my arm.
II take IT," said he at last. "ye're
frae the Spanish shin that burnt up
last NIGHT. Nevertheless an We con-
seeder yerser a preesoner L a bit lad
wham he could ha' slain an We wflled.
It's not In my heart to be anger't. ut
for that" Ny father stopped all at
once and looked as ~ a rnon,antone