CHAPTER XXIII

SCOTTISH GAMES AND SCOTTISH TUNES

It was a gala scene that met their eyes as they drove into the village.

There, around a game field lighted by myriads of small electric bulbs, the whole population of the town was collected. Everyone was in holiday mood. All eyes were riveted on a brass band of kilted Highlanders marching up and down the field when Nan and her friends made their appearance. At a signal, the band struck up a happy welcoming tune as the girls were ushered directly to a group of seats opposite the very center of the field. Everyone stood up and clapped.

"Seems almost like the good old high school days at Tillbury," Bess whispered to Nan, "I half expect a cheerleader to appear."

"Sh!" The warning was Nan's, for after the girls acknowledged the greeting by bowing and smiling and had seated themselves, the contests began.

First, there was the bagpipe competition. At opposite ends of the field on wooden platforms, raised so that everyone could see, the Angus MacPhersons, Donald MacDonalds, and James Mackenzies of the village marched very slowly around and around playing jigs and reels and all sorts of Scottish Highland tunes.

How weird the music seemed to the ears of the American girl! It wasn't gay enough for Bess who liked only the jazz music that she could hear at home. She grew restless. But Nan and Laura, always interested in strange new things, sat on the very edge of their seats, anxious not to miss any detail of what was happening.

"How I'd like to awaken Mrs. Cupp some drizzly dark morning with bagpipe music!" Laura's eyes danced merrily at the thought.

"You'd be expelled as sure as anything," Nan whispered back. "Will you look at that?" She almost fell off the edge of the seat in her excitement.

The Highlanders had retired for a while and, racing across the field now, were teams of two men each, one pushing a wheelbarrow and the other in it. When they missed the goal, as they generally did, a bucket, suspended from a beam above the goal line, tipped and drenched the two with water, to the great amusement of the crowd.

"Oh, what fun!" Laura exclaimed. "Look! There goes another bucket over. He got it right in the face!"

"And look at the next one," Bess was interested too, now. "Is he going to get by safely? No, look, Nan!" She grabbed her friend's arm. "The wheelbarrow and everything is going to go over now! Are they hurt?" She closed her eyes and looked the other way.

"Oh, Bess, they're not hurt, they're just half drowned," Nan was laughing heartily. This was fun to watch, better than any circus. The crowd cheered and laughed and clapped and laughed again. "Tilting the Bucket" was one of the favorite Scottish games.

Next came the highpoint of the evening--the dancing of the Highland Fling and the Sword Dance. Such dancing! The tall, straight, skirted Highlanders with their white jackets and green kilts went from movement to movement, swinging rhythmically and gracefully, leaving the girls breathless at the end. The crowd applauded, long and loudly.

The dancers came back and did the Highland Fling over again. The crowd wouldn't let them leave. They cheered and whistled. The dancers repeated again and again, each time doing it better than the last.

The group of three that finally won the evening's prize, a five pound note, climaxed their conquest of the crowd by donating the money to the village coronation fund! The winner of the bagpipe contest followed suit and then the Broad Jump champion, the winner of the Mile Run and the Hurdle Races joined in. Before the crowd really realized what it was doing, everyone was throwing coins toward the center of the field. The band started to play "God Save the King!" Everyone stood up. They sang, first the English National Anthem and then Scotch song after Scotch song.

Finally the lights blinked. The band played "God Save the King" again and everyone moved slowly away. It had been a grand evening with some fifty pounds added to the village fund for a stupendous celebration on the day of the crowning of the King and Queen.

Nan and her friends shook hands with the committee that had planned the evening's entertainment. Villager after villager stopped to talk with this young descendant of Hugh Blake who had come from far away America to see the old estate. They were simple folk, straightforward and honest in their appraisal of the brown-eyed American, but they found nothing to criticize. Somehow, Nan was able to make them feel that she was one of them, and as they went away gossiping about Old Hugh and young Nan, they all agreed that she was a "bonnie, bonnie lassie."

The committee, escorting the visitors back to the carriage, urged them to stay in Emberon for the coronation celebration.

"Aye, and it will be a gr-r-r-and day here," William MacDonald, the chairman, urged. "In London, noo, I'll gr-r-r-ant ye, it will be ver-r-ry guid too, but mind ye, ye cudna find no better celebration than the one here at Emberon. It's ver-r-ry proud we are of his Royal Highness and her Ladyship. They pass here ver-r-ry often on their way to the North. Aye, and even once they stopped to watch the games. That was the time young MacDonald, my nephew, ye ken," he explained proudly, "tossed the caber so high and over so cleanly, that the guid king himself, mind ye, shook him by the hand. Aye, and that was a gr-r-r-and day." The old man stopped while he thought it all over again, remembering how he had stood right next to his nephew when the king congratulated him.

"Will ye stay?" He repeated his invitation, as with an effort, he shook the memory of that bygone day from his mind and came back to the present and the young Blake lass.

"Noo, and she cudna," old James Blake stepped into the conversation. "Ither, bigger things," he lapsed into the dialect of the villagers about him, "are hers in London town."

Old MacDonald looked up. A flash of understanding passed between the two.

"Ye're right, Jamie," he said, "and she's a right bonnie lass to carry on."

With this, Nan and her friends were hurried along by James Blake toward the carriage, and in the moonlight, they drove up the steep hill toward the gray castle on the summit.