Jack and the Devil's Purse (11 page)

‘Well,’ he says, ‘eh, it wasn’t the local blacksmith that done that.’

‘No, in fact, it wasn’t,’ he said, ‘it was the apprentice – the boy!’

‘Well, I’ll tell you something,’ he said, ‘the apprentice made a big mistake. One of the nails in your horse’s shoe is piercing the quick of your horse’s foot, and I would get it removed immediately if I was you!’

‘What do you know about this?’ said the young laird, ‘What’s your name, old man?’

He said, ‘My name is Johnny McGill.’

‘Oh! This is Johnny McGill. Yah, I’ve heard about you,’ he said, ‘I’ve heard about you from some of my friends. You’re supposed to be a vet.’

‘Well,’ Johnny said, ‘they say that, but if I was you, sir, I would get that shoe removed as soon as possible. One of the nails is piercing the quick of your horse’s hoof, it’s been drawn too close to the hoof by the apprentice, and I would get it removed immediately if I was you.’

And the laird turned round, he said, ‘Could you remove it for me?’

Johnny McGill said, ‘Of course I could remove it for you. But I’ll remove it on one condition, you walk it home!’ And he went into his tool box and he took out a pair of grips, things that he used for the material, and within seconds he removed the horse’s shoe. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘walk it home! And, I think this belongs to you,’ and he handed the laird’s wife’s ring to the laird.

And the laird looked at it, and ‘Where in the world,’ he said, ‘did you get that?’

Johnny says, ‘I got it from my crow, that little fellow there, that little fellow picked it up this morning.’

And the laird said to him, ‘Listen, pay no attention to my wife! My wife was along here this morning. But she’ll be more than delighted to receive her ring back. And I’m more than delighted to know that my horse will be . . .’

‘On one condition,’ says Johnny McGill, ‘that you don’t go on its back for the next three or four days to come, but leave it running around in the field! And don’t shoe it again for another week.’

And the laird turned round, he said, ‘Let me tell you something, youse people; you stay here, as long as you want, and if anybody bothers you again, send them to me!’ And the laird led his horse away. And the next morning the Travellers were gone. They were all gone.

And it was the laird passed by in his old car, and he stopped, and he said, ‘These strange, strange people! You tell them to move and they stay, and you tell them to stay and they’re gone.’

Now these were the stories of Johnny McGill, and of course he was a legend in his own time. But the Travellers were a wee bit eerie of him because of all the stuff he carried, but some of them began to understand; it took them a long, long time to really understand Johnny McGill, and these are the stories my father used to tell us in the tent a long time ago. Many, many wonderful stories, personal experiences from Johnny McGill because he knew him. And then, he was gone! His voice was gone as if he’d never existed, but his stories are still with us today after all those years. And that’s the truth about Johnny McGill, so if ever you tell one of his stories, remember you’re telling a story about something that really took place a long time ago.

Now, there’s a story that goes down through history. And I mean people have seen the ghosts of animals – as well as the ghosts of humans. Many people have claimed to have seen a black dog, a black horse. But you don’t know. If a person says to you, ‘I saw a ghost’, you cannae say he never seen a ghost! Five thousand people have said they saw something that represented a Loch Ness monster. How are we to say that they didn’t see something that they thought was the Loch Ness Monster? I mean, five thousand folk, and among these people were some honest, good-living, hard-working people. Doctors, ministers, lawyers of all description, and they maintained they saw something.

If somebody says to you they saw a ghost, probably they did – what they thought was a ghost. So, I’m going to tell you a story.

There wonst lived an old brother and sister. And his name was Donald MacDonald – but no relation to John MacDonald the Traveller, because he was a shepherd. He was a good shepherd and he worked for a local farmer with his dog. And his dog’s name was Bob. He loved Bob, since he was a wee pet; Bob was the love of his heart. His old sister Mary had never married, she stayed with them in their little cottage.

But then the sadness was, his lovely dog died. Bob died. And when Donald retired, something terrible happened,
because he went blind, completely blind. And of course Mary took good care of him every way she could. She gave him everything his heart desired. But he always had one thought in his mind: Bob, his old dog.

So in October month, across the hillside from the cottage where he lived, there was a group of hazel trees. And his sister Mary had a great love for wild hazelnuts. Every year in the time when he had his sight, that was the time he would gather wild hazelnuts for Mary, bring two big pokes of hazelnuts back for her. ‘Specially round Hallowe’en time.

So now that he was blind, he wasn’t a shepherd anymore and his old faithful dog was gone, all he could do was sit by the fireside waiting on Mary to do all the things for him.

One afternoon she comes into him and she says, ‘Donald, I’ll have to go to the village. And the weather’s not very good.’ She says, ‘It’s coming up for Hallowe’en and I’ll have to get some stuff in for Hallowe’en in case we get any visitors, kids come, you know, to the house. I won’t be long.’ She had a little bike she cycled to the village, her bike.

But anyway, he thought about this. Now, he’s blind. But he knew that way to the trees. And he thought to himself . . . with his stick he would surprise Mary. He would make his way to the trees even though he was blind – he knew that in his mind, how he would do it. And there was a gate that led to the field. Under this gate it was wet, and there were a fence along, towards the hill trees.

He said, ‘If I get through the gate and get my hand on the fence and follow the fence along till I get to the trees, I’ll manage to get a pocketful of nuts and surprise Mary when she comes back even though I’m blind.’

So he got up with his walking stick. He was away through the door and he walked down tapping here and there with his stick. He felt the wet behind his knees, below his feet, he
knew he was at the gate. And he put his hand on the fence and he followed the fence along. He made his way towards the trees. But he could not reach up into the trees. He groped on his knees on the ground and all the nuts had fallen from the trees. Soon he filled his pockets.

But unknown to him the farmer had come and put some cattle in the field and closed the gate, the gate where the mud goes through. Where he went through – he knew it was a muddy place.

So the mist came down. It was a cold night, and he tried to find his way back but he got completely lost. He got lost.

Mary came back from the village. She searched for him, she couldn’t find him. And the mist came down. She didn’t know where he was. So naturally she had to go down to the local police and report him missing.

‘Well,’ the police said, ‘we cannae dae nothing till the mist clears. We’ll go out a search party on him when the mist clears.’

But now, Donald is sitting there wondering where in the world he is. He can’t make his way back, he’s completely lost. When all in a minute he felt a cold nose on his hand. And he put his hand up and he felt . . . ‘Bob!’ he said, ‘Bob! He’s come back to me.’

He put his hand round the neck and he felt the collar and he felt the collar tag, and he knew that tag well. And then he put his hand on the collar and it began to pull. He stood up.

And he said, ‘Bob, take me home! Take me home, Bob.’

The dog led him as if it were a blind dog, a blind person’s dog. It led him back to the gate and he reached up. He felt the gate, he opened the gate. And he closed the gate behind him. And the dog led him right to the door of his house. He walked into the house with his pocketful of nuts and there was Mary waiting on him.

She says, ‘Where have you been, Donald?’

He said, ‘I went to get you some nuts.’

She said, ‘The police are looking for you, I reported you to the police! You’ve been missing for hours. How did you get back,’ she says, ‘in the mist?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘mist means nothing to me; I can’t see any mist.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘they’re going to put a search party out for you when the mist clears. How did you get home?’

He said, ‘Bob brought me home!’

‘Bob brought you home?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Bob came to me where I sat at the hazel trees. He sniffed my hand with his wet nose. And I felt his collar and he led me back.’

She said, ‘You’ve been dreaming.’

‘No, I’ve not been dreaming. I told you, Bob took me back all the way. Right to the gate,’ he says, ‘someone closed it. But I opened it and closed it again.’

She said, ‘There’s no way – the dog’s been dead for years.’

He said, ‘Bob took me home, I’m telling you! He took me back to the door of the house.’

But she wouldn’t believe him. The next morning when the mist cleared she knew no one had come through that mucky gate but himself, and she walked down and she found her brother Donald’s footsteps in the mud. And by his side was the footsteps and paw marks of a dog, by his side. And she knew that Donald was telling the truth. For the ghost of Bob had come back and taken his old master home to the house. She never argued with him again when he mentioned Bob.

And that is a true story.

A long time ago away in the far north of Scotland in a little village there lived a little girl called Jenny Weir. Jenny’s mummy and daddy had been drowned in a boating accident when she was only two years old. And Jenny went to live with her grandmother. Her granddad was an old roadman who took care of the roads. They were very, very poor. In those bygone days wages were very small. Old Granny took care of Jenny even though her heart was broken to lose her only daughter. Jenny was her only grandchild.

Little Jenny went to school in the local village. The little house where they lived was not far from the village. But on the way to school there was an old castle that dated back before time.

And Granny had always warned Jenny when she travelled to school, ‘Jenny, please don’t go near the old castle because the people say it’s haunted. And if you go near that castle, you never know what might happen to you!’

And Jenny said, ‘Oh Granny, I’ll not go near the castle. I promise you!’

Jenny was very happy with her granny. And the people of the small village knew Jenny very well; they called her ‘Little Jenny’. They felt very sad for her because she had lost her parents.

And then for some strange reason her granddad took sick, and after a short illness her granddad was gone. Jenny was sad to lose her granddad, for she loved him very much. He had told her many stories, stories about the old castle. He said it was haunted: there was an old woman who wandered the castle; she was the guardian of the castle. Jenny was always a little scared, even in daytime when she passed by the ruins of the old castle. And she remembered her grandmother’s words . . .

Jenny’s granny was very poor. She only lived on her pension. And a pension in these bygone days was not very much, about five shillings a week. Granny tried very hard to stitch and sew and mend, do things for Jenny to bring her up the best she could. Jenny loved her grandmother very, very much.

But one day just two weeks before Christmas Jenny travelled off to school with a little bag on her back. She’d only about a quarter of a mile to go. She passed the castle, and as she looked up she saw something very beautiful. For high on the castle was a holly tree. It was in full bloom with all those beautiful red berries.

And she thought, ‘Where am I going to get a present for Grandmother? It will soon be Christmas. There’s nothing to get. I have no money and Grandmother can’t afford to give me anything.’

But Grandmother had warned her, ‘Keep away from the old castle, Jenny. It’s haunted.’ Jenny was scared.

Then she said, ‘I must find a present for Grandmother!’ Where could she find one?

Soon it was just three days before Christmas. Jenny started home that afternoon from school. But she thought and stopped:

‘There’s nothing in that castle to scare me. It’s only an old ruins, just some walls. And that beautiful little holly tree up
there has all these wonderful red berries. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could take Grandmother some holly as a little present?’ So finally she said, ‘I’ll do it! I’ll climb the wall. Grandmother will never know. I’ll get her some holly.’

So she left her little school bag down by the ruins that led to the old castle. And she walked in, over the old stones that had fallen from the walls. She climbed up and up the wall. The holly tree was right on the top of the castle, just a small tree. And the berries were red hanging over the wall.

She said, ‘There’s nothing here to scare me.’ She felt a little chilly. ‘There’s nothing here to touch me. Grandmother will be so happy.’

And she broke two branches of the holly. She made a lovely little bunch. ‘Oh Granny will love this,’ she said. ‘This will be a present for Grandmother.’

And then she made her way down the wall. But then she stood on a stone that was loose and she slipped and fell. She rolled and tumbled. She held on to the holly as she tumbled down, and hit her knee on a big sharp stone. She was dazed. Then she lay there and looked at her knee. It was a great gash on her knee, split all the way down.

And she said, ‘Oh Granny’ll be so upset! Whatever shall I do?’ The blood began to run down over her little sock. ‘What shall I do? Granny will be so angry with me now, so angry! And I promised her faithfully I wouldn’t come near this place.’

Jenny was still hanging on to the holly. Now before her was a large wall. She was rather dazed. And as she looked she saw a little door in the wall. She said to herself, ‘Granny never said there was a door in the wall.’

And then the door opened with a scree-ee-e-e-k. Jenny was amazed. She saw a little tiny face peeping through the wall.