Sandy McNeil (short reads)

SANDY MacNEIL AND HIS DOG By SORCHE NIC LEODHAS THERE ONCE was a man named Sandy MacNeil who lived just outside Cairncraigie. His family in the old days had had plenty of lands and money, but that was in his great-grandsire's time. § 1 Then the troubled times came along, and when they were over, his great grandsire was gone and all the gold and gear had got themselves lost somehow, too. So all that was handed down to Sandy were a few starve-crow fields and an old tumble-down house. § 2 Sandy was never one to mourn for what was gone and long gone. He made do with what he had and managed to scrape by on it. Being an easy-going, good-natured sort of a lad, he wasted no time complaining, and as he went his own gait and let his neighbours do the same he had plenty of friends and no enemies worth mentioning. § 3 All in all, he was as happy-go-lucky and contented as if he'd been a laird. There was one queer thing about Sandy MacNeil. He had a terrible fancy for dogs, and they had the same for him. § 4 He'd be coming down to the village of a Saturday night, and every tyke in the place would prick up its ears and wag its tail as he passed by. Sandy'd go along to the tavern to have a friendly gab about the news of the week with whoever dropped in, and by the time he got there, a dozen or maybe more dogs would be footing it along before and behind him. § 5 Each one of them would be trying to shoulder the next one away to get closer to Sandy, and him talking away to them all the while. 'Twas a rare comical thing to see! When Sandy came to the tavern door. he'd stop, and all the dogs would stop, too. § 6 Then Sandy would say polite-like, "That's all for now, laddies. Be off to your homes, for I cannot ask you in with me." Then the dogs would wag their tails to show there was no offence taken, and off they'd go back to their homes, just as Sandy told them to do. § 7 Some folks remarked that it was a queer thing that Sandy MacNeil had no dog of his own. But others would say, why should he, when every other man's dog was just as much his as its master's. Still, the time came when Sandy did get a dog for himself, though the getting of it was no doing of his own. § 8 This is the way it all came about. One night Sandy was coming home from Cairncraigie. It was past nightfall, for he'd stayed longer than he meant to, the company being good and the talk entertaining. § 9 He was swinging along at a fair rate, because the morrow was the Sabbath, and there were jobs that had to be done before midnight came so that he'd not be working on a Sunday. It was a misty, cloudy sort of a night with a pale moon overhead that gave little light, being mostly behind a cloud. § 10 Besides, the road was dark because on either side there were tall hedges that cast their shadows on it. Maybe that's why Sandy didn't notice the dog. He did think once or twice that something was there, but he put it down to a fox or maybe a badger. § 11 Being in haste to get home, he paid it no heed. It wasn't till he got to the place where the road met his own lane that he saw it. The hedge stopped there to let the lane through to the road. Just as Sandy got there the moon came peeping out for a minute from under the clouds. § 12 That was when he first caught sight of the dog. Sandy had never seen its like before. The creature looked to be the size of a young calf, and it had long legs and a rough, shaggy coat of fur. From the point of its muzzle to the tip of its tail it was black as coal. § 13 The moon went back behind the clouds then, so that was all that Sandy saw of it for the time. But the dog must have had its head turned towards Sandy, because he could see its eyes. The eyes shone with a bright red glow that made Sandy think of the way embers glow under the dead coals when a fire is about to go out. § 14 Sandy was acquainted with all the dogs for miles around, and even from the little he'd seen of this dog he knew that it wasn't one of them. He never thought of being afraid, for he had yet to see the creature that could give him a fright. § 15 So he called the dog to come to him. The dog never made a move or a sound. It just stood there with those shining red eyes fixed on Sandy. "Please yourself!" said Sandy, and he turned into the lane towards his house. § 16 The dog came along with him, keeping to its own side of the road and well away from Sandy. It was plain to see that it had no wish to be friendly. Sandy had great respect for the rights of dogs, as well as of men, so he let it be. § 17 When Sandy got up to his house, the dog was still there. "Now, lad," said Sandy. "Tis sure you've come a long way from your home; for if you lived near I'd be knowing you. By that same token, you've a long journey to go before you get home again. You'd best be off and away!" § 18 But the minute Sandy opened the door the dog slipped by him into the house. "Och now!" cried Sandy. "Come out o' there, my lad! Where'er you belong, 'tis not here." But the dog did not come out and, what with the house so dark and the dog so black, Sandy couldn't see where it was at all. § 19 Sandy went in and found a lamp. He lit it, and then he looked about for the dog. He found it lying on the bench by the fire in the front room. It lay with its nose down on its paws, and its eyes gleaming at Sandy with the same red glow. § 20 Now that Sandy could look at it by lamplight, he could see what a huge creature it was. He'd vow it was twice the size of any he'd e'er seen before. But it wasn't its uncommon size that gave Sandy a queer sort of feeling, but something else about it that Sandy couldn't put into words. § 21 However, dogs were dogs, and Sandy was fond of them all. So he said, "Well then, lie there. Rest yourself a bit if you like. Happen you're weary, poor creature." Sandy went about getting things ready for the morn. § 22 When he'd finished and filled the kettle and laid out his Sunday clothes, he said coaxingly, "Come away now, black laddie! 'Tis time for you to be off to where you belong." He opened the house door for the dog to go out. § 23 The dog made no move to go, but lay still upon the bench. Sandy was used to having dogs do what he told them to do, and it surprised him that this one didn't mind him. "Happen he's deaf!" he told himself. So he went over to the dog to give it a nudge off the bench. § 24 He laid his hand on the dog's shoulder. There was no feeling of flesh or fur under his hand and his fingers came down flat on the bench! Sandy snatched his hand away as if he'd burnt it. § 25 A shiver ran up his spine and back down again. Then he laughed at himself. Half asleep on his feet he must be, and dreaming! It was late and he must be more tired than he'd thought. § 26 He went and took the lamp up from the table, carried it over to the fire, and leaned over the bench to take a good look at the dog. He nearly dropped the lamp! He wasn't dreaming! Losh! 'Twas no proper dog there at all! 'Twas the ghost of a dog! § 27 Sandy backed away. He set the lamp down on the table, his fingers trembling so that it was all he could do to put it upright. Then he sat down to think it over. Of one thing he was sure. He'd not tamper with the creature any further. § 28 So the dog lay and looked at Sandy, and Sandy looked at the dog. What the dog was thinking about a body couldn't tell. At first, Sandy couldn't think at all, but after a while his wits came back to him, and he started to reason the matter out. § 29 Ghost or not, the dog appeared to mean him no harm. Sandy told himself that if he were going to be haunted at all, he'd rather be haunted by the ghost of a dog than many another he could think of. § 30 His great-grandsire, for one, who'd have made a raring ranting old bogle from all that Sandy'd ever heard tell of him. Anyhow, the ghost was there and meant to stay, so what could Sandy do about it? § 31 Having come to this conclusion, Sandy told himself that a man needed his rest. So he blew out the lamp and went to bed. And after a while he got off to sleep. When he woke in the morn he laughed to himself. § 32 "Och!" he said. "That was a rare fine dream I was having the night's night." And he went yawning down the stairs to put the kettle over the fire for his morning tea. He looked over at the bench as he passed by the front-room door, just sort of making sure it was a dream. § 33 The dog was still there! Then and there Sandy made up his mind. "If I can't drive you out," he said to the dog, "neither shall you drive me out. 'Tis my house and I'm staying in it. The place is big enough for the two of us." § 34 So the dog stayed with Sandy, and Sandy stayed with the dog. At first, Sandy had an eerie feeling seeing it lying there as he came in and out of the house, knowing what it was. But that soon wore off, and he paid it no heed at all. § 35 To tell the truth, after a week or two he began to like having it there. It was company for him, living alone as he did. Except for the night he met it on the road, Sandy never saw it anywhere but on the bench by the fire, although sometimes, as he came up the lane, he had a fancy that it was walking beside him. § 36 But when he came into the house, it was always there on the bench. Sandy never told folk he had a dog, but it wasn't long till they found out for themselves. They found out what sort of a dog it was, too. § 37 One evening, a neighbour of Sandy's stopped by to ask for the loan of some tool or other, and when Sandy stepped out of the house to give it to him, he left the door standing open. § 38 While Sandy stood on the doorstep talking to him, the man-being the sort that is always curious about other folk-peered into the room. He saw the great black dog lying on the bench by the fire. § 39 "Och then!" said the man. "You've got yourself a dog at last, Sandy MacNeil." "Happen I have," Sandy said. "Tis an odd-looking creature!" the man exclaimed, leaning to look past Sandy. § 40 "Happen it is," said Sandy, and he reached behind himself to pull the door to. The neighbour had a lot more curiosity than he had wits. "I'll just have a look at it then," he said, pushing past Sandy into the room. § 41 "I'd not advise it," Sandy warned him. But the man was already across the room and had his hand on the dog. The haste with which the man left Sandy's house was amazing. He screeched something at Sandy as he flew past, but what it was Sandy could never tell. § 42 Before Sandy could tell him the dog would do him no harm, he was out of sight. To be sure, the news spread like fire in dry corn stubble. Soon there wasn't anybody that didn't know that Sandy had got a dog for himself that was the ghost of a dog. It nearly turned the village upside down. § 43 Some folk said nothing at all and some said they'd not go near Sandy MacNeil's house for love nor money. But there was an awful sluagh of folk that took it upon themselves to give Sandy a word of advice. § 44 Sandy was used to going his own gait and didn't like being interfered with, so he gave this lot the rough edge of his tongue. “’Tis no concern of yours what kind of dog I've got," he said angrily. "Ye'd do well to get rid of it," they insisted. § 45 "Get rid of it!" Sandy said hotly. "Och, why should I do that?" “’Tis unnatural, a dog's ghaist," they said. "It does no harm," Sandy insisted. "Not yet," said they. "Nor ever will," retorted Sandy. "He suits me fine! § 46 Not a penny does he cost me, for he doesn't need to be fed or tended. Nor does he keep folk awake of nights baying at the moon like the tykes of some folk I could be naming. He can bide with me as long as he likes, so haud your wheesht!" § 47 The truth was that, ghost or no ghost, the dog was Sandy's dog and he'd got terribly fond of it. What he minded most was that folk wouldn't stop havering about it. It was all they talked about at the tavern and a man could find no comfort there any more. § 48 It was just as bad when they met him on the road or in the village. Nobody could find anything to talk about but the big black dog that was a ghost and that was going to bring Sandy terrible bad luck. § 49 One Saturday evening he came home from the village and sat down to take off his boots by the fire. He'd come away extra early, because he couldn't see any sense in staying there because of the way they all kept on at him. § 50 He looked over to the dog and said to it, "If it's any sort o' luck you're going to bring me, be at it and let's have done with it! Either that or do something to stop their blethering, for I'm weary of hearing them go on about it." § 51 And being so put out and upset by it all, he did what he'd never have done to a dog had he not been driven to it. He took the boot he had in his hand and hurled it at the dog. § 52 The boot never went near the dog, for which Sandy was glad, because he'd never meant to throw it. "Och, lad!" said he to the dog. "Tis sorry I am!" But the dog looked at him for a minute with its eyes glowing redder than ever, and then it leapt down from the bench and up the stairs. § 53 Sandy ran after to see what it was up to, but the dog had too much of a start on him. Just as Sandy got to the top of the stairs the dog gave a great bound that took it right through the wall. § 54 Where it went through, it left behind a great hole in the wall, and Sandy ran over to see if he could find out where the dog had gone. When Sandy got to the hole, he found that it wasn't a hole at all. § 55 Instead it was a hidden cupboard that he had never known was there, because it was behind the plaster that had long ago been laid over it. The door of the cupboard stood open now, and while Sandy stood and stared at it a great bag fell off the shelf and dinged down on the floor. § 56 The bag flew open, and out poured a great stream of golden coins. Sandy fell on to his knees before it. "Luck!" he cried. "Och, here's all the luck in the world! And 'twas my big black dog that brought it to me!" § 57 It was his great-grandsire's gold that had got itself lost, because he had hidden it away there before he went off to fight in the troubled times. Since he'd got himself killed, he never came back to tell them where it was. § 58 Sandy gathered the gold up into a basket and took it down to the village to show folk the kind of luck the ghost of the big black dog had brought him. The ones who had the most to say before were the very ones who had the least to say when they saw the gold. § 59 The sorry thing for Sandy was that he never saw the dog again, and he missed it sorely. He waited long for it to come back, and there were times he told himself he'd rather have it than all his great-grandsire's gold. § 60 But at last he gave up waiting and got himself a tyke to keep him company. It wasn't as big or black or quiet as the other, but it helped. Now that Sandy was the richest man in the countryside, folk took to calling him The MacNeil, to show their respect. § 61 He found himself a bonnie young wife and built himself a fine new house, which he called "Dog's Luck" just to remind folk where his money came from. § 62 He still goes into the village of a Saturday night, and if you should be there and see a man with a dozen or more dogs footing it along before and behind him, each trying to shoulder the next one out of the way to get closer to him, you'll know that's Sandy MacNeil.