Read Online Flower of Scotland 2 by William Meikle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William Meikle
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bring me up to date with all this new-fangled stuff. Want a job?"
Bobby smiled.
"Okay, Dad."
Hand in hand, father and son headed back to what was left of their camp.
George realised something else.
"You used me as bait didn’t you?"
Bobby looked sheepish.
"I saw it in a game once. It worked that time as well."
George ruffled the boy’s hair.
"Maybe fishing is your thing after all."
~-oO0Oo-~
Jack and the Cat's Paw
One day in May Jack took to walking the hill roads, asking at each town after work. In the of the second day he walked into a small town that he did not know, and was told that they were looking for a man to run the new mill.
The owner lived in a smart house at the edge of town where the main road butted hard against the forest. A river ran along the town boundary and the mill could be seen further down the valley, slightly away from the rest of the buildings. Even from this distance Jack could see that the wooden structure of the mill itself was new and unweathered.
The mill owner was friendly enough, but was quick to explain the perils of the offered job.
"I won’t lie to you lad," the man said. "There’ve been three men afore you just this past week, but none lasted more than one night. Two of them are as dead as dead can be, and the third is lost to the world -- some kind of poison the doctor says... some kind of haunt I say. I’ve bin over the whole place each time, but found nothing."
"Well," said Jack. "I ain't afeared of no haunt. And I does need the work, so lets take a walk down there and see what’s what."
Jack was pleased with what he saw of the mill. The top floor above the actual workings was walled with thick logs and featured a large stone fireplace, a pot on a swivel attached to the wall, and a bed -- everything he ‘d need to cook and sleep on the premises. Thin sunlight came through from twelve small windows high above, but Jack reckoned on being too busy downstairs in the daylight hours to worry about the lack of light.
He turned to the man with him. "I’d be right pleased to take the job, if you’ll have me?"
They shook on the deal, and within half an hour the townsfolk started turning up with grinding to be done. Jack was kept busy all the way through a long afternoon and ground meal until it was near dark. He wiped the sweat from his brow, got the water turned out of the mill race, and was getting ready to close the mill for the night when an old man came through the entrance with a small poke of corn on his shoulder. His beard fell all the way across his chest and his one good eye almost seemed to sparkle as he smiled at Jack.
"I've come a long way today, the old man said. I wonder could you grind my corn for me? I couldn't get here no sooner."
Now another man might have turned the work away, for it was a chore to get the water race filled again, and the mill ready for grinding. But that wasn't in Jack’s nature. He got the water running and the grindstone working and he ground the stranger's corn for him.
When he shut the mill down the old man smiled.
"Jack, I've been here three times before, but you're the first one ever to start up the mill for me. I'm goin' to give you a present."
He reached into his leather jerkin and brought out a knife.
"It's silver," the old man said. "And it has served me well on many a cold night. I hope it will likewise serve you."
The old man left, carrying his newly ground meal on his shoulder, a slight limp noticeable as he went down the valley, away from the town. Jack watched his until he was lost under the dark shadows at the edge of the forest. By then it was almost dark, so Jack took himself upstairs and lit a fire in the grate and started making a stew in the pot. He had no lamp, but the fire gave out enough light to see by and as it got darker thin moonlight washed into the room from the twelve windows above, lending more than enough light to see by.
With the stew starting to bubble, Jack took out the
Bobby smiled.
"Okay, Dad."
Hand in hand, father and son headed back to what was left of their camp.
George realised something else.
"You used me as bait didn’t you?"
Bobby looked sheepish.
"I saw it in a game once. It worked that time as well."
George ruffled the boy’s hair.
"Maybe fishing is your thing after all."
~-oO0Oo-~
Jack and the Cat's Paw
One day in May Jack took to walking the hill roads, asking at each town after work. In the of the second day he walked into a small town that he did not know, and was told that they were looking for a man to run the new mill.
The owner lived in a smart house at the edge of town where the main road butted hard against the forest. A river ran along the town boundary and the mill could be seen further down the valley, slightly away from the rest of the buildings. Even from this distance Jack could see that the wooden structure of the mill itself was new and unweathered.
The mill owner was friendly enough, but was quick to explain the perils of the offered job.
"I won’t lie to you lad," the man said. "There’ve been three men afore you just this past week, but none lasted more than one night. Two of them are as dead as dead can be, and the third is lost to the world -- some kind of poison the doctor says... some kind of haunt I say. I’ve bin over the whole place each time, but found nothing."
"Well," said Jack. "I ain't afeared of no haunt. And I does need the work, so lets take a walk down there and see what’s what."
Jack was pleased with what he saw of the mill. The top floor above the actual workings was walled with thick logs and featured a large stone fireplace, a pot on a swivel attached to the wall, and a bed -- everything he ‘d need to cook and sleep on the premises. Thin sunlight came through from twelve small windows high above, but Jack reckoned on being too busy downstairs in the daylight hours to worry about the lack of light.
He turned to the man with him. "I’d be right pleased to take the job, if you’ll have me?"
They shook on the deal, and within half an hour the townsfolk started turning up with grinding to be done. Jack was kept busy all the way through a long afternoon and ground meal until it was near dark. He wiped the sweat from his brow, got the water turned out of the mill race, and was getting ready to close the mill for the night when an old man came through the entrance with a small poke of corn on his shoulder. His beard fell all the way across his chest and his one good eye almost seemed to sparkle as he smiled at Jack.
"I've come a long way today, the old man said. I wonder could you grind my corn for me? I couldn't get here no sooner."
Now another man might have turned the work away, for it was a chore to get the water race filled again, and the mill ready for grinding. But that wasn't in Jack’s nature. He got the water running and the grindstone working and he ground the stranger's corn for him.
When he shut the mill down the old man smiled.
"Jack, I've been here three times before, but you're the first one ever to start up the mill for me. I'm goin' to give you a present."
He reached into his leather jerkin and brought out a knife.
"It's silver," the old man said. "And it has served me well on many a cold night. I hope it will likewise serve you."
The old man left, carrying his newly ground meal on his shoulder, a slight limp noticeable as he went down the valley, away from the town. Jack watched his until he was lost under the dark shadows at the edge of the forest. By then it was almost dark, so Jack took himself upstairs and lit a fire in the grate and started making a stew in the pot. He had no lamp, but the fire gave out enough light to see by and as it got darker thin moonlight washed into the room from the twelve windows above, lending more than enough light to see by.
With the stew starting to bubble, Jack took out the
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