Bailie MacConachie made a mistake when he risked a war with the boys of the Seminary, and it was colossal folly on his part to continue the war after his first defeat in the affair of the advertisement. No doubt it was humiliating to have his respectable place of business filled with the mob of Muirtown demanding whisky as a right, and threatening him with penalties as a covenant-breaker when they did not get it; he had also very good reasons for believing that the unholy inspiration which gathered the vagrants to his shop came from the Seminary. His best policy, however, would have been to treat the matter as a joke; and if the Bailie had stopped on his way to dinner, and told the boys plainly that he knew quite well they were at the bottom of the affair, that they were a set of confounded young rascals, that he had intended to hang six of them and send the rest to penal servitude, that he was going to forgive them for the sake of their unhappy parents, and because it had not been half bad fun after all, that there would be no more policemen before the Seminary, and there must be no more windows smashed in his (the Bailie’s) house the Seminary, which always respected a fellow who took his licking with good humour and didn’t squeal, would have given the Bailie the best cheer he ever got in his public career, and a covenant of peace would have been made between him and the boys which would never have been forgotten. Had another pane of glass been broken by a Seminary ball, the value thereof in a packet of halfpence, with an expression of regret, would have been handed in before evening. The honorary freedom of the school would have been conferred on the Bailie, without any public ceremony, but with immense practical advantage, and although the Bailie was surfeited with civic honours, yet even he might have tasted a new pleasure as he passed along the terrace to see the boys suspend a game for an instant to let him pass in stately walk, and to hear Speug cry, “Oot o’ the Bailie’s road,” and to receive a salute from tailless Highland bonnets that were touched to none outside the school, except to the Count and Dr. Manley. If Providence had given a touch of imagination to the Bailie, and his head had not been swollen by a position approaching that of the angels, he would have come to terms at once with the boys, in which case bygones would have been bygones, and he would have been spared much humiliation.

Unfortunately the Bailie allowed his temper to get the better of him, raging furiously in public places, and breathing forth threatenings about what he would do to the plotter, till all Muirtown, which otherwise might have pitied him, held its sides. He kept our single detective at work for a fortnight, who finally extracted from London John that the “boardies” containing the shameful advertisement had been given him by a man uncommonly like the detective himself and that the said “boardies” were not to be compared with those he used to carry in London. The detective also learned, on a somewhat risky visit to Mr. McGuffie’s stables, that the Speug had spent the whole day of that historical Saturday till the hour of two when he called for peppermints at the Bailie’s shop in cleaning out his rabbit-hutch and other domestic duties this on the testimony of three of Mr. McGuffie’s grooms, each of whom was willing to swear the same anywhere, or fight the detective, with gloves or without gloves, in the stable-yard or any other place which might be agreed upon. The Bailie also, going from bad to worse, offered a reward of L5 for any information which would lead to the conviction of the offender, and received thirty letters so many anonymous, attacking his character, public and private, and so many signed, from various cranks in Muirtown, in which the crime was assigned to Irish Roman Catholics, to the Publicans, to the Morisonians, and to a tribe of gypsies camped outside the city. They were all annoying, but there were two which cut the Bailie to the quick. One was written from the security of Glasgow, in which the writer promised, on receipt of the reward, to send a full account of the conspiracy, and, having got the money, replied briefly that he left the matter to the Bailie’s own conscience; and the second, which asked for no reward except the writer’s sense of having done his duty, and which hinted that if the Bailie put the question straight to his senior assistant, he might find he had been nourishing a viper in his bosom, and that a young man with such a smug appearance could be little else than a rascal. This letter, which was written in a schoolboy hand, and had five words misspelt, was signed, “An Elder of the Free Kirk.” None of the letters seemed to help the matter forward, and life at the Bailie’s residence was very troubled during those weeks.

When news of the Bailie’s vindictive spirit spread through the Seminary, the boys were much pained, for it was sad to see an old man forgetting himself and harbouring a spirit of revenge. It seemed, indeed, as if all they had done for the Bailie was simply love’s labour lost, and that they must begin again to bring him to a proper state of mind. The Seminary loved peace and hated war, being a body of quiet, well-behaved, hard-working lads. Still, if war was forced upon them, and detectives set upon their track, it was a duty to themselves and their families to meet the situation bravely. Nothing could have been more successful than the last campaign; and, although Speug had never boasted, and none dared say that he had anything to do with it, there was a feeling in the Seminary that the conduct of the next campaign was safe in his hands. As it turned out, it was certainly safe, and one ought not to detract from genius, but there can be no doubt that Fortune played into the hands of Speug.

Much may be allowed to a broad sense of humour, and the walk of the Bailie was marvellous to behold; but it was rather poor business for Speug to walk half the length of the Terrace a yard behind the Bailie in an exact imitation of the magistrate’s manner, although the school was hugely delighted. If the Bailie had taken no notice, the score had been on his side; but when he turned round and gave Speug a sound box on the side of the head, he lost himself, and out of that single mistake, by a chain of consequences, arose the scandal which almost drove the Bailie from Muirtown. Speug could not have hoped for anything so good as that foolish blow, and the moment that it came he saw his opportunity. Many a stroke had he endured in his day, from his father and from the grooms, when his mischief was beyond endurance, and from Bulldog when he caught him red-handed, and from the boys in a fight, and there was no one of his age so indifferent to such afflictions. Had the hand been any other than that of Bailie MacConachie, Speug would have made derisive gestures and invited the second stroke. As it was, he staggered across the pavement and fell with a heavy thud upon the street, where, after one sharp, piercing cry of pain, he lay motionless, but his moans could be heard along the Terrace. His one hope was that, when he had seized the occasion with such dramatic success, the Seminary would not fail to play up and support his rôle, and, although they were cleverer at reality than acting they entered heartily into their opportunity.

“Are ye conscious, Peter?” inquired Howieson tenderly, as he stooped over the prostrate figure. “Div ye hear us speakin’ to ye? Dinna moan like that, but tell us where ye’re hurt. What are ye gatherin’ round like that for an keepin’ away the air? Hold up his head, Bauldie? Some o’ ye lift his feet out o’ the gutter? Run to the lade, for ony’s sake, and bring some water in yir bonnets.”

It was pretty to see Jock and Bauldie lifting the unconscious form of their beloved friend, and carrying him carefully across the pavement, and placing Speug in a sitting position against the railing, and then rendering what would now be called first aid to the wounded, while that ingenuous youth kept his eyes tightly closed and moaned occasionally, to show that he was still living. Never in his life had Providence given him a chance of playing so much mischief, and he was not going to be disobedient. They opened his shirt at the breast to give him air, they anxiously searched the side of his head for the wound, and washed away imaginary blood with very dirty pocket-handkerchiefs. They bathed his forehead with such profuseness that the water ran down his chest, whereat Speug expressed himself in low but stern tones, so Nestie advised them to stick to his head; and some of the smaller boys were only prevented from taking off his boots by a seasonable warning from Bauldie and a reasonable fear of consequences. The Seminary circle was reinforced by all the message-boys within sight, and several ladies who were coming home from the shops. Two maiden ladies, against whose railings Peter had been propped in the hour of his distress, came out their hearts full of compassion and their hands of remedies. As Jock and Bauldie did not consider it safe that Peter should be moved at once, one maiden lady placed a cushion between his head and the railings, while the other chafed his forehead with scent, and both insisted that Dr. Manley should be sent for at once. This was the first suggestion which seemed to have any effect on Peter, for it would not at all have suited his plans that that matter-of-fact physician should have arrived on the spot. And when a bottle of ferocious smelling-salts was held to the patient’s nose, Speug showed signs of returning consciousness.

“Poor dear!” said one lady; “what a mercy he wasn’t killed. A blow behind the ear is often fatal. He’s coming round nicely. The colour is returning to his cheeks. Bailie MacConachie, did you say?” as Jock Howieson unfolded to the ladies in simple, straightforward, truthful words the story of the murderous attack. “I can’t believe that any man would so abuse a poor helpless child.” (At this moment Peter, who had been reconnoitring the whole scene through his half-closed eyes, seized the opportunity to wink to the mourners with such irresistible effect as to prove once again the close connection between tears and laughter.) “And him a magistrate,” concluded the sympathetic female. “He ought to be ashamed of himself; but if I were the laddie’s friends, I would make the Bailie hear about it on the deaf side of his head.”

Upon a sign from Speug, who was getting a little weary of inaction, he was helped to his feet, and after one or two staggers seemed to come to himself, and submitted with agreeable humour to the attention of his friends, who dusted him from head to foot, under the superintendence of the ladies and to the huge delight of the message-boys, who were now entering into the meaning of the scene. His bonnet, which had been thoughtfully used as a water-can, was placed wrong end foremost upon his head, but Peter resisted the proposal to tie up his head in Bauldie’s handkerchief, partly because there was a limit even to his endurance, and because Bauldie’s handkerchief served many a purpose in the course of the day. The maiden ladies were anxious that he should rest in their house, but Speug indicated that he preferred to be taken home, where he could break the news himself to his anxious father. And so an impressive procession was formed, with so many boys in front to clear the way, and then Speug, upheld on the one hand by Nestie, and on the other by Jock, while Bauldie commanded the rearguard and kept the message-boys at a distance, in order to secure due respect for the sufferer. It was with difficulty that Speug could sustain his rôle until he and his friends got safely within the shelter of the stable-yard, when they plunged into a straw-shed and rolled together in one heap of triumphant mischief.

“You’re a g-genius, Peter,” said Nestie, “and it would be pure waste for you to be a h-horsedealer. You must go on the st-stage. The way you came whack on the pavement was j-just immense; and do you know, Peter, you looked quite nice when you lay f-fainting. One lady called you a pretty boy, and I was quite sorry you were unconscious.”

“Ye’re a disgustin’ liar, Nestie, besides being an impident young brat. I heard every word, and she never said ‘pretty’; but,” and Speug looked round thoughtfully, “if I knew which o’ ye emptied the water down my breast, I’d give him something to remember. I’m wet to the skin,” and Speug made a drive at Bauldie, who caught Howieson by the leg, who pulled down Nestie by the hair of the head, and they all fought together in high glee. Speug extricated himself and demanded news of the Bailie. Then the three told Speug the story together in bits, one beginning where another left off.

“He was that astonished when ye coupit over that he couldna speak, and Jock cried, ‘The Bailie has killed Speug.’” “He was wantin’ to lift ye up, but Bauldie gets in afore him and dares him to strike ye a second time.” “It would have done you good, Peter, to see the Bailie walking along to his house, just like an ordinary man, all the s-starch out of him, and taking a look back to see what was h-happening.” “Aye, and he stoppit opposite the lade to get another look, and if Cosh didna empty a cupful of water on his legs by mistake! I didna think Cosh had the spirit.” “He was ashamed to stand at the w-window, but I saw him p-peeping out behind the curtains, just to find out whether you were living.” “If his servant lass didna follow us across the meadow, and, my word, she’s back to the Bailie with a fine story.” “He’s sweatin’ the now for fear he be taken up for assault, and maybe manslaughter.” “What w-would you say, Peter, just to die altogether, and we would gi-give you an A1 funeral? If you’ll just be g-good-natured and do it, I’ll write your l-life myself. It’s perfectly sc-scrummageous.” And then Peter fell on Nestie, and Howieson on Bauldie, and they rejoiced together once more in the straw.

“You’re ‘avin’ an ’igh ’olé time in ’ere, young gentlemen,” and Mr. McGuffie’s English groom looked down on the boys; “but you’re missin’ the Derby, that’s what you are. Hold Pompous has come ’isself, and if he ain’t been hexplainin’ to the master ’ow he ’appened to knock Speug down. He’s out o’ breath now, and the master he’s took up the runnin’, and my eye and Betty Martin ain’t he talkin’! Not cussin’ no, not one swear word has he let go. Young gentlemen, upon my Alfred David, if the master ain’t preachin’ for all the world as if he was a blessed beak on the Bench and old Pompous was a ‘habit and repute.’ It’s as good as a circus; you just go and ’ear ’im,” and in exactly one and a quarter seconds the boys were an unseen audience when Mr. Peter McGuffie senior gave his opinion of the conduct of Bailie MacConachie, which he had been doing already for some time with much effect.

“Imitatin’ ye, was he, and followin’ ye along the street, walkin’ as ye walk, and so ye knocked him down in open day? Why should he not be doing as ye did? Is yir walk protected by law, that nobody dare step the same way on the streets of Muirtown? Answer me that, if ye please. Bailies are pretty high and mighty in this town, they are; but I never heard yet that the street belonged to them, and that a laddie was in danger of death if he followed in their steps. That would be a fine pass. Aren’t boys always imitatin’ somebody? Why, you stupid old fool, half the laddies in this district try to imitate me; and, as sure as ye’re standing there, I’ve seen half a dozen of them, each one with a straw in his mouth, and the bit legs of him straddled, and his bonnet on the side of his head, and the belly of him stuck out like a pillow, just the eemage of myself. What would ye think of me if I knockit one of them down, ye double-distilled old fool?

“I’m astonished at ye, for ye might be pleased to think that the laddies, instead of copying a horsedealer, are trying to be magistrates. Didna the Provost tell the laddies the last time he gave the prizes to ‘take notice of my freend Bailie MacConachie, and try to be like him?’ And now, when one of them has taken his advice, if ye dinna turn round on the street and half kill him, till he had to be brought home half faintin’ to his father’s house! Fine-like conduct for a magistrate! Ye bloodthirsty old ruffian!

“Came to make inquiries, did ye? Ye made enough inquiries, by all accounts, on the Terrace. Expression of regret, was it? We don’t want yir regret, ye hypocritical Pharisee! Present of a top? I wonder ye have the face! Ye break a laddie’s head and then offer him a top! I can buy tops myself for my family. Confound ye! to think ye’re standing there after manglin’ a poor, defenceless, harmless, motherless laddie! Ye should be ashamed to show yir face in Muirtown; and if there was any public spirit in this town, ye would be drummed out o’ the place!

“Look ye here, Bailie MacConachie” and Mr. McGuffie adopted a conciliatory tone “the best of us will make mistakes, and ye’ve made a particularly big one when ye knockit down Peter McGuffie in the face of the public of Muirtown. Ye may bet on that and take my tip for it. Let’s settle this matter fair and sure as between man and man. Ye say ye’re sorry, and ye don’t want any noise made about it. Well, now, I’ve lived here man and boy for fifty years, and any man in Muirtown will tell you I’m straight. If I give a warranty with any horse, ye needn’t be afraid to buy that horse, and I’ll deal with ye on the square.

“Ye and me are about an age of and on, and we ought to be pretty even as fighting men. Ye have the pull of me in height, but I would say that I am nimbler on my legs. Ye might be called a heavy weight, and I am a middle weight, but there isn’t much in that. We could meet pretty level with the gloves.

“Suppose, now, we just went into the straw-shed here, and stripped and fought the matter of six rounds, easy and quiet? There would be no mischief done, and no bad blood left, and that would be the end of the matter.

“Magistrate, did ye say, and elder in the Kirk. What do ye take me for? Do ye mean to say I’d split on ye, and go round Muirtown saying that Bailie MacConachie and me had a friendly turn with the gloves! Ye don’t do me justice. Why, there’s nobody outside this stable-yard would ever hear tell of it; and if they did, they would respect ye, and count ye an able-bodied man, which is more than a Bailie any day. Is it a deal, Bailie? Ye won’t, won’t ye, and I ought to be ashamed of myself, ought I? And a prizefight would be a disgrace to Muirtown, would it? Muirtown is pretty easy disgraced, then. Who’s speaking about a prizefight, ye haverin’ old body? But I see how the wind blows. If the other man stands a bare five feet, and ye can get at him before he’s ready, ye’re mighty handy with yir fists. Ye cowardly old sneak? But when ye’re offered the chance of facing a man about yir own size, ye count it a disgrace. My opinion is, ye havna the spirit of a mouse in yir body! I’m ashamed to think ye’re a magistrate of Muirtown! Dinna speak to me, MacConachie, for I might lose control and send ye out of the stable-yard, with my foot followin’! My advice is to be off as quick as ye can, for if some of the grooms got hold of ye they would make an awful mess of ye they’re not just particularly fond of magistrates, and they’ve a great notion of Peter.

“One word before we part, Bailie,” and the Bailie took that word walking, “So far as I understand, ye might be arrested for assault, and I might prosecute ye for damages; but I will let ye off just this once with a word of solemn advice. Ye’re a Bailie of Muirtown, and ye’re an elder in the Kirk, and ye’re an Italian warehouse-man; but for all that, MacConachie, remember ye’re just a man. Ye’re swollen up and fozzy with pride and vanity, and ye pace down the streets like an elephant let loose from a menagerie; but, MacConachie, consider ye’re just a man. Ye’re wily and cunning and pawky and long-headed, and ye’re got yir own way in this town for many a year; but lay it to heart, ye’re just a man. Ye’ve sat on the Bench and laid down the law, and when ye wagged yir head everybody kept quiet, and when ye’ve scrapit yir throat they thought it was Gospel; but, MacConachie, dinna forget it, ye’re just a man. Ye needna hurry,” and Mr. McGuffie, standing in the gateway of the stable-yard, pursued the Bailie along the street with exhortations. “I’ve said all I wanted to say, and I’ve just one word more. Ye’ve fought with the Tories and ye’ve fought with the Publicans, ye’ve fought with this body and with that body, and ye’ve beaten them, and ye thought ye were cock of the roost in Muirtown; but ye meddled with the laddies, and they’ve licket ye once, Bailie, and they’ve licket ye twice, Bailie, and if ye dinna cry ‘Peace,’ they’ll lick ye again, and that’ll be the end of ye, Bailie MacConachie.”

When Mr. McGuffie returned to the stable-yard he called for his son, and passed a careful hand over Peter’s head, and then he declared that Speug was a chip of the old block and prophesied aloud that there lay before him a long and useful life.