He had a small farm of his own at the foot of the hill of which he had the charge. It was a poor little place, with a very low thatched cottage for the dwelling. A sister kept house for him. When we approached it there was no one to be seen. We advanced to the door along a rough pavement of round stones, which parted the house from the dunghill. I peeped in at the little window as we passed. There, to my astonishment, I saw Jamie Duff, as I thought, looking very happy, and in the act of lifting a spoon to his mouth. A moment after, however, I concluded that I must have been mistaken, for, when Turkey lifted the latch and we walked in, there were the awful John and his long sister seated at the table, while poor Jamie was in a corner, with no basin in his hand, and a face that looked dismal and dreary enough. I fancied I caught a glimpse of Turkey laughing in his sleeve, and felt mildly indignant with him—for Elsie’s sake more, I confess, than for Jamie’s.

“Come in,” said Adam, rising; but, seeing who it was, he seated himself again, adding, “Oh, it’s you, Turkey!”—Everybody called him Turkey. “Come in and take a spoon.”

“No, thank you,” said Turkey; “I have had my supper. I only came to inquire after that young rascal there.”

“Ah! you see him! There he is!” said Adam, looking towards me with an awful expression in his dead brown eyes. “Starving. No home and no supper for him! He’ll have to sleep in the hay-loft with the rats and mice, and a stray cat or two.”

Jamie put his cuffs, the perennial handkerchief of our poor little brothers, to his eyes. His fate was full of horrors. But again I thought I saw Turkey laughing in his sleeve.

“His sister is very anxious about him, Mr. Adam,” he said. “Couldn’t you let him off this once?”

“On no account. I am here in trust, and I must do my duty. The duke gives the forest in charge to me. I have got to look after it.”

I could not help thinking what a poor thing it was for a forest. All I knew of forests was from story-books, and there they were full of ever such grand trees. Adam went on—

“And if wicked boys will break down the trees—”

“I only pulled the bilberries,” interposed Jamie, in a whine which went off in a howl.

“James Duff!” said Adam, with awful authority, “I saw you myself tumble over a young larch tree, not two feet high.”

“The worse for me!” sobbed Jamie.

“Tut! tut! Mr. Adam! the larch tree wasn’t a baby,” said Turkey. “Let Jamie go. He couldn’t help it, you see.”

“It was a baby, and it is a baby,” said Adam, with a solitary twinkle in the determined dead brown of his eyes. “And I’ll have no intercession here. Transgressors must be prosecuted, as the board says. And prosecuted he shall be. He sha’n’t get out of this before school-time to-morrow morning. He shall be late, too, and I hope the master will give it him well. We must make some examples, you see, Turkey. It’s no use your saying anything. I don’t say Jamie’s a worse boy than the rest, but he’s just as bad, else how did he come to be there tumbling over my babies? Answer me that, Master Bannerman.”

He turned and fixed his eyes upon me. There was question in his mouth, but neither question nor speculation in his eyes. I could not meet the awful changeless gaze. My eyes sank before his.

“Example, Master Bannerman, is everything. If you serve my trees as this young man has done—”

The idea of James Duff being a young man!

“—I’ll serve you the same as I serve him—and that’s no sweet service, I’ll warrant.”

As the keeper ended, he brought down his fist on the table with such a bang, that poor Jamie almost fell off the stool on which he sat in the corner.

“But let him off just this once,” pleaded Turkey, “and I’ll be surety for him that he’ll never do it again.”

“Oh, as to him, I’m not afraid of him,” returned the keeper; “but will you be surety for the fifty boys that’ll only make game of me if I don’t make an example of him? I’m in luck to have caught him. No, no, Turkey; it won’t do, my man. I’m sorry for his father and his mother, and his sister Elsie, for they’re all very good people; but I must make an example of him.”

At mention of his relatives Jamie burst into another suppressed howl.

“Well, you won’t be over hard upon him anyhow: will you now?” said Turkey.

“I won’t pull his skin quite over his ears,” said Adam; “and that’s all the promise you’ll get out of me.”

The tall thin grim sister had sat all the time as if she had no right to be aware of anything that was going on, but her nose, which was more hooked than her brother’s, and larger, looked as if, in the absence of eyes and ears, it was taking cognizance of everything, and would inform the rest of the senses afterwards.

I had a suspicion that the keeper’s ferocity was assumed for the occasion, and that he was not such an ogre as I had considered him. Still, the prospect of poor little Jamie spending the night alone in the loft amongst the cats and rats was sufficiently dreadful when I thought of my midnight awaking in the barn. There seemed to be no help, however, especially when Turkey rose to say good night.

I felt disconsolate, and was not well pleased with Turkey’s coolness. I thought he had not done his best.

When we got into the road—

“Poor Elsie!” I said; “she’ll be miserable about Jamie.”

“Oh no,” returned Turkey. “I’ll go straight over and tell her. No harm will come to Jamie. John Adam’s bark is a good deal worse than his bite. Only I should have liked to take him home if I could.”

It was now twilight, and through the glimmering dusk we walked back to the manse. Turkey left me at the gate and strode on towards the village; while I turned in, revolving a new scheme which had arisen in my brain, and for the first time a sense of rivalry with Turkey awoke in my bosom. He did everything for Elsie Duff, and I did nothing. For her he had robbed the bees’ nest that very day, and I had but partaken of the spoil. Nay, he had been stung in her service; for, with all my care—and I think that on the whole I had done my best—he had received what threatened to be a bad sting on the back of his neck. Now he was going to comfort her about her brother whom he had failed to rescue; but what if I should succeed where he had failed, and carry the poor boy home in triumph!

As we left the keeper’s farm, Turkey had pointed out to me, across the yard, where a small rick or two were standing, the loft in which Jamie would have to sleep. It was over the cart-shed, and its approach was a ladder. But for the reported rats, it would have been no hardship to sleep there in weather like this, especially for one who had been brought up as Jamie had been. But I knew that he was a very timid boy, and that I myself would have lain in horror all the night. Therefore I had all the way been turning over in my mind what I could do to release him. But whatever I did must be unaided, for I could not reckon upon Turkey, nor indeed was it in my heart to share with him the honour of the enterprise that opened before me.