IT WAS AE DAY in strawberry-time, whan my grandfaither was gafferin a big squad in the park ahint the shed, and I was sittin on the yett at the fute of the Lesmahagow road, lookin across the Clyde road at the shed door, and wonerin whan my minnie wad leave the packin to my grannie, and come hame to Linmill and mak the tea. For in strawberry-time my grannie was aye that thrang in the shed, sortin and weyin and packin the berries, that my minnie had to mak the meat for her.
Weill, I was sittin on the yett at the fute ο the Lesmahagow road, waitin for my minnie wi my wame rummlin, whan alang the Clyde road frae Linville cam young Fred Jubb, the horse-breaker’s laddie, ridin a sheltie pownie, at the heid ο a string ο five, aa jeyned by their bridles to ae lang reyn, and young Tam Baxter of the Falls was on the second.
They made a braw sicht, the five wee pownies, aa in a raw, heid to tail, and ye can be shair that young Fred Jubb lookit as prood as a peacock, and young Tam Baxter tae, though he had nae reyns to haud his pownie wi, and had to grip it by the mane.
But to think there were three pownies there wi naebody on them at aa. It seemed sic a waste.
I cried oot to young Fred.
‘Whaur are ye gaun wi the pownies?’
‘Doun the length of the Black Brig,’ he said, ‘to exercise them.’
‘Can I no come wi ye on the ane ahint Tam?’
‘Ye couldna bide on it.’
‘Could I no! I can bide on oor Daurkie.’
Daurkie was the name ο ane ο the Linmill horses, and my grandfaither whiles let me sit on its back.
‘Ay,’ said young Fred, ‘wi yer grandfaither leadin it.’
‘Weill,’ I said, ‘the pownies ahint yours are bein led.’
‘That’s different. There’s naebody aside them to catch ye gin ye suld faa.’
‘I wadna faa.’
‘Hοu dae ye ken? Hae ye ridden yer lane afore?’
‘Na, but naither has Tam.’
‘That’s juist whaur ye’re wrang,’ said young Tam Baxter. ‘I hae practised ilka nicht for a week.’
By this time they were gey near bye the Linmill road-end, and I had followed them.
‘Stop followin us,’ said young Fred.
‘The road’s free,’ I said, and cairrit on.
‘Are ye ready, Tam?’ said young Fred. ‘I’m gaun to trot.’
‘Ye can gallop, for aa I care,’ said young Tam, grippin his pownie’s mane is if his life dependit on it, and I sweir he lookit gey ill at ease.
Onywey, young Fred Jubb hit his leggins wi his whip, and it gied a crack like a pistol shot, and the pownie he was ridin stertit into a trot, and the reyn it trailed ahint it gied a jerk at young Tam’s, and it gied a breinge forrit tae, nearly flingin Tam aff, sae on till the haill string ο pownies was trottin, and though I ran efter them I sune lost my pech, and had to turn afore they won the length ο young Tam’s at the Falls.
My minnie was hauf wey hame to Linmill by the tap park whan I met her.
‘Whaur hae ye been?’ she askit.
I telt her aboot the pownies, and hou there were three juist gaun to waste, wi naebody on their backs, and said it wasna fair ο young Fred Jubb to let young Tam Baxter ride one and no me, for I had ridden Daurkie for a year, and he was a heavy Clydesdale, sixteen haunds heich, and the Baxter’s beast at the Falls was a licht garron, fowerteen haunds and nae mair, and I had neir seen young Tam up on it onywey.
‘Weill, Rab, they’re the Jubb’s pownies,’ said my minnie. ‘Gin young Fred daesna want to gie ye a ride on ane, naebody can order him.’
‘Could his faither no order him?’
‘I daursay, but naebody can order his faither.’
‘Could Mrs Jubb no ask his faither?’
‘I daursay she could.’
‘Are you no a freind ο Mrs Jubb’s?’
‘I suppose I am.’
‘Weill, could you no ask Mrs Jubb?’
‘I daursay I could.’
‘Ask her, then, will ye?’
‘Aa richt, son.’
‘Whan will ye ask her?’
‘Oh I dinna ken. I micht no see her for a day or twa.’
‘Could ye no see her the nicht? Ye could tak a walk doun through Linville.’
‘I’m no very fond ο gaun doun through Linville. And I hae naething to gang for.’
‘Ye could gang juist for a walk.’
‘Weill, mebbe, I’ll see.’
She didna for a while, and I began to growe vext wi her, thinkin she was gey blate, and me her ain bairn. But the wait did nae hairm, in ae wey, for ilka time my grandfaither gaed near a horse I was there at his feet, priggin for a ride on its back, and ae ein whan he wasna thrang, and something had putten him into a guid tid, he pat an auld saiddle on Daurkie, and the reyns, and telt me hou to guide him, and syne lat me hae two turns the length ο the hoose front on my very ain. Afore I was dune that nicht I felt aboot ready to ride at the Lanark races.
Then, ae ein late, whan I was lyin in my bed in the big upstairs room, listenin to the rummle ο Stanebyres Linn, that aye grew looder the quaiter it grew aboot the hoose and closs, my minnie cam in to me, weirin her hat.
She had been doun seein Maggie Lauder, at Airchie Naismith’s, and comin oot ο Airchie’s yett she had seen Mrs Jubb, and gane ower for a bit crack, and brocht up the maitter ο the shelties.
‘Ye’re to be at the fute ο the Lesmahagow road at fower o’clock the morn. Dinna say nou that I dinna speyl ye. Nou aff wi ye to sleep.’
Sleep. I could haurdly sleep a wink aa nicht.
Whan fower o’clock cam the neist day I had been waitin at the fute ο the Lesmahagow road till baith my feet and my dowp were weary, wi first sittin on the yett and syne leanin against it, wi my ein glued to the bend at Airchie Naismith’s, waitin for the shelties to come.
They cam at last, at a slow walk, and I gied a wave to young Fred, but he didna wave back, and naither did young Tam Baxter, and whan at last they did win the length ο the yett young Fred lookit gey soor.
‘Gin ye want to come wi us ye’d better jump up quick,’ he said.
The pownie ahint young Tam Baxter was the biggest ο the five, and whan I had been alloued to sit on Daurkie’s back my grandfaither had aye liftit me up. But I kent what to dae, for I had seen it dune, and I stude facin the sheltie’s side, wi my haunds on it, and lowpit aff my feet, hopin I wad land wi my belly on its back, and syne bring my heid roun to the front and sit up, wi ae leg doun aither side.
But I hadna lowpit heich eneuch, and I slippit back doun on to my feet.
‘Come on, come on,’ said young Fred. ‘I haena gotten aa day.’
I could see he wasna pleased at haein been telt to let me gang wi them, and was gaun to be as akward as he could. But it juist pat my puggie up.
I gied anither lowp, pittin my haunds on the sheltie’s back and giein a shove wi them as sune as I was aff the grun.
The force took me gey near ower it athegither, and there was a wee while whan I thocht I was gaun to land heid first on the road at the faur side, but I managed to get my wecht on to my left haund, and span roun on it like a peerie, and sat up, wi my legs apairt and my haunds raxin for the sheltie’s mane.
Nae suner had I gotten a grip on it than I heard young Fred’s whip crackin on his leggins, and saw him kickin wi his heels like a savage.
His sheltie sprang forrit, and sae did young Tam’s, and at the first jerk ο the lang reyn mine liftit its heid, and tried to rise on its hin legs, and my heid gaed back, but the reyn jerkit again, and it lowpit forrit, and my feet cam up till I was gey near lyin on its back, and I gied a desperate breinge forrit to get my heid up and my feet doun again, but the sheltie had steadied at the end ο its lowp, and I slid forrit on to its neck, and gin it hadna stridden into the trot then I wad hae tummlet aff.
As it was I slid back again on to the middle ο its back, and grippit ticht wi baith haunds and knees, and keepit my heels doun and my taes up, the wey my grandfaither had telt me, and held up my heid.
I was still on, but faur frae feelin shair ο mysell, for the trottin was gey sair on the banes, liftin ye up at ilka step and fetchin ye hard doun again, and gin the sheltie stummlet at a lowse stane or a puddle hole ye were jouglet aff yer sait, and it was fashious wark to win back on to it. Three times I had a job, and three times managed it, and syne I began to feel at hame, and micht hae enjoyed it, gin it hadna been juist sae sair on the banes.
We passed the Linmill road-end, and syne the front gairden orchard, and syne the Falls road-end, and the Clyde road stertit to sclim.
I kent young Fred wad slow to a walk then, and he did withoot warnin us, but I was ready for him, and leaned back juist in time to save mysell frae being flung forrit.
Young Tam Baxter hadna been ready, though, and slippit forrit on to his sheltie’s neck, and though he didna faa aff he was nettlet, for he gied a bit keek roun to see if I had noticed.
I was fair pleased wi mysell, especially whan I thocht ο the wey aheid, for ance bye the Falls the road gaed doun a lang brae, and I kent we wadna be able to trot there, and by the time we won to the fute ο it, at the Black Brig, it wad be time to turn back again.
I sat up on my sheltie’s back and had a guid look roun, and it was like being in a new warld athegither. I had walkit that bit ο the Clyde road atween Linmill and the Falls mony a time, and aa I had seen on the side awa frae Clyde had been the stane dyke atween the road and a park ο Tam Simpson’s. Nou I could see the park itsell, and the warkers at the strawberries, and Tam Simpson at the shed, and his wife in her crazie, and they aa stoppit war kin and stared at the pownies.
And whan we passed the Falls hoose Martha Baxter cam oot, wi wee Alick in her airms, and Jenny aside her—the bonniest lassie in Clydeside, save mebbe for young Fred’s sister Olive—and wee Alick waved his haund, and we three waved back, and syne passed on doun amang the beeches at the Falls brae, gaun at a steady walk, easy on the banes.
I neir saw Clydeside look ony bonnier, though the bluebells were bye in the Stanebyres wuids, and there was naither flourish nor fruit in the orchards. But it was strawberry-time, and the place thrang wi folk bye the ordinar, wi sae mony brocht in to pou the berries, and sic a steer atween the parks and the sheds.
But the lang Falls brae cam to an end at last, and we cam oot on to the straucht streitch ayont the Black Brig, whaur I had thocht we wad turn. There were nae folk aboot here, for on the Clyde side ο the road there was an orchard, and on the ither side the Stanebyres policies.
Whan young Fred didna turn I kent he wad be for trottin again and I grippit ticht wi my haunds and knees and leaned forrit, and shair eneuch, he crackit his whip against his leggins again and kickit wi his heels, and the trot began, and though it jummlet me and jouglet my banes I sune began to feel that I could thole it, till I saw young Fred kickin wi his heels again, and young Tam Baxter tae, and I kent aa at ance they were baith oot to cowp me.
They didna, though, and we were comin gey near the heid ο Hazlebank brae, whaur we wad shairly hae to slow doun and turn, whan I saw young Tam lean ower and bend doun, and feel wi his haund for the lang reyn, and jerk it.
My sheltie twice liftit its heid and jerkit back, but it keepit to the trot, sae young Tam leaned ower again, and was bendin doun to feel for the reyn a second time whan there was a nicher frae the sheltie ahint mine, and the reyn gied a jerk, and what happened efter that I juist canna be shair, for my sheltie liftit its heid again squealin, and I had to be ready in case it wad try to rise on its hin legs, and by the time it had steadied again there was a yell frae young Tam, on the grun juist ahint me.
‘Stop!’ I cried oot, and leaned back, and young Fred Jubb poued on his reyns.
We baith gat doun and helpit young Tam to his feet.
‘Are ye hurt?’ said young Fred.
‘Ay,’ said young Tam, haudin ae haund to his heid and the ither to his dowp. Ane ο his knees was bluidin.
‘Are ony banes broken? Can ye walk aa richt?’
Young Tam took a step or twa.
‘Ay,’ he said.
‘What aboot yer airms? Can ye move them?’
‘Ay.’
‘What gart ye cowp?’
‘He was leanin doun to jerk the reyn to cowp me,’ I said.
‘I was naething ο the kind,’ said young Tam.
‘Ye were sae,’ I said.
‘Aa richt, aa richt,’ said young Fred Jubb, ‘let’s get back to the Falls. The suner that knee’s washt the better.’
Ye winna believe it, but young Tam wadna gang back on to the sheltie.
‘Juist leave me,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk. My leg’ll stiffen up gin I dinna.’
‘Ye’ll be hame faur suner gin ye ride,’ said young Fred.
‘The sheltie’s hair micht rub into my cut.’
‘Aa richt,’ said young Fred. ‘Hae it yer ain wey.’
I rade the second sheltie efter that, and though Fred trottit again on the wey back alang the straucht streitch to the Black Brig, and I canna say I enjoyed it, I was prood at least that I could bide on the sheltie’s back, and when we were doun to a walk again, on the wey up the Falls brae, I was fair in my element.
‘We’ll stop at the Falls,’ said young Fred, ‘and tell Martha that young Tam’s on his wey.’
We did, and Martha askit us into the shop for some lemonade and biscuits, but young Fred said his faither wad be anxious, for he had gane faurer nor he ettlet. I was gey chawed at haein to miss the lemonade, and gey nearly telt Fred I wad walk the rest ο the wey, but I thocht he micht jalouse that my banes were sair, and they werena that bad.
Sae we bade on the shelties, and hastent on, and whan we cam to the Falls road-end, and I thocht young Fred wad stop and let me aff, and I wad be saved anither trot, I was disappeyntit.
‘Come on richt into Linville wi me, Rab,’ he said. ‘It’s no faur to walk back.’
I didna want him to see that I was feart, sae I agreed, and frae the Falls road-end to the heid ο the Linville brae we were trottin again, up doun, up doun, up doun, and ilka time doun aa the banes in my back crackin, and though we gat a cheer as we gaed bye the Linmill shed, frae some warkers that were cheyngin parks, I gat nae pleisure frae it, I was sae faur jurmummlet.
On my wey hame frae the Jubbs’ stable I met my minnie at the shed yett.
‘What’s wrang wi ye, Rab?’
‘Wrang?’
‘Ay, ye’re walkin gey queer like.’
‘I’m a bit stiff.’
‘Ye look it.’
‘But I didna tummle aff,’ I said.
‘I’m gled to hear it.’
‘Young Tam Baxter tummlet aff.’
‘Was he hurt?’
‘He bluidit his knee.’
‘Ye suldna soond sae pleased aboot a thing like that. It isna nice!’
‘He did it whan he was leanin ower trying to jerk the reyn to cowp me.’
‘Oh did he? It served him richt, then.’
‘Ay,’ said I.
‘But ye suld be sorry he was hurt.’
I didna say ocht, for he wasna hurt that muckle, and to tell ye the truith, gin his knee was ony sairer nor my banes it was faur waur nor it lookit.