At that Red Wull walked up to Lady Eleanour, faintly wagging his tail;
and she put her hand on his huge bull head and said, “Dear old Ugly!” at
which the crowd cheered in earnest.
After that, for some moments, the only sound was the gentle ripple of
the good lady's voice and the little man's caustic replies.
“Why, last winter the country was full of Red Wull's doings and yours.
It was always M'Adam and his Red Wull have done this and that and the
other. I declare I got quite tired of you both, I heard such a lot about
you.”
The little man, cap in hand, smiled, blushed and looked genuinely
pleased.
“And when it wasn't you it was Mr. Moore and Owd Bob.”
“Owd Bob, bless him!” called a stentorian voice. “There cheers for oor
Bob!”
“'Ip! 'ip! 'ooray!” It was taken up gallantly, and cast from mouth
to mouth; and strangers, though they did not understand, caught the
contagion and cheered too; and the uproar continued for some minutes.
When it was ended Lady Eleanour was standing up, a faint flush on her
cheeks and her eyes flashing dangerously, like a queen at bay.
“Yes,” she cried, and her clear voice thrilled through the air like a
trumpet. “Yes; and now three cheers for Mr. M'Adam and his Red Wull!
Hip! hip--”
“Hooray!” A little knowt of stalwarts at the back--James Moore,
Parson Leggy, Jim Mason, and you may be sure in heart, at least, Owd
Bob--responded to the call right lustily. The crowd joined in; and, once
off, cheered and cheered again.
“Three cheers more for Mr. M'Adam!”
But the little man waved to them.
“Dinna be bigger heepocrites than ye can help,” he said. “Ye've done
enough for one day, and thank ye for it.”
Then Lady Eleanour handed him the Cup.
“Mr. M'Adam, I present you with the Champion Challenge Dale Cup, open to
all comers. Keep it, guard it, love it as your own, and win it again if
you can. Twice more and it's yours, you know, and it will stop forever
beneath the shadow of the Pike. And the right place for it, say I--the
Dale Cup for Dalesmen.”
The little man took the Cup tenderly.
“It shall no leave the Estate or ma hoose, yer Leddyship, gin Wullie and
I can help it,” he said emphatically.
Lady Eleanour retreated into the tent, and the crowd swarmed over the
ropes and round the little man, who held the Cup beneath his arm.
Long Kirby laid irreverent hands upon it.
“Dinna finger it!” ordered M'Adam.
“Shall!''
“Shan't! Wullie, keep him aff.” Which the great dog proceeded to do amid
the laughter of the onlookers.
Among the last, James Moore was borne past the little man. At sight of
him, M'Adam's face assumed an expression of intense concern.
“Man, Moore!” he cried, peering forward as though in alarm; “man, Moore,
ye're green--positeevely verdant. Are ye in pain?” Then, catching sight
of Owd Bob, he started back in affected horror.
“And, ma certes! so's yer dog! Yer dog as was gray is green. Oh, guid
life! “--and he made as though about to fall fainting to the ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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