Sometimes 'Andy's' attacks took a wider range, and {28} nocturnal escapades of a frolicking nature are said to have been not infrequent. It is told of him that having gathered a few of the village boys together, they made a raid one night upon the workshop of the village joiner, and took away a number of odd cart-wheels lying about in the yard. These they fastened to the doors of some of the cottages, where they were found next morning, much to the surprise of the inmates, who had some difficulty in getting egress from their houses! Nobody, of course, could tell who was to blame; but, as our informant remarked, 'They a' kent wha did it: it was just some o' Maister Andra's mischief.' One old woman in the village, whose temper was not very good, and who laboured under the conviction that her hen-house was from time to time robbed of its roosters, had made herself somewhat obnoxious, and it was determined to give her a real fright. So one evening, after all decent folks were supposed to be in bed, Andy and his company slipped quietly round to the hen-house, and presently there was a great commotion and cackling among the feathered occupants. The old lady in her bed heard it all, but was too frightened to come to the rescue. She was certain, however, that some of her favourite hens had been taken, and next day she went up to the laird at the big house to complain, and to ask compensation. Andy was with his father when the old woman was laying off her story, but betrayed no signs of his complicity in the transaction, wisely preferring to keep his own counsel in the matter. Of course the boys had taken none of her property. They only wanted to play a trick upon her. Andy was, however, not a boy who would perpetrate any wilful mischief, or do anything that would cause pain. He hated cruelty, and once when he was accused of having {29} killed the cat of an old servant of the family, who lived as a pensioner in the village, he heard the accusation with the greatest indignation. Going at once to Mary's house he strongly asserted his innocence, telling her with all earnestness, 'I'd rather shoot myself, as shoot your cat, Mary.' Very early in life he evinced a strong desire to share in the sport of the hunting-field. His father would not, however, hear of it, and refused to allow him to get a proper rig-out. But Master Andrew was not to be balked in his ambition, for one morning, getting into a pair of his father's top-boots, many sizes too large for him, and securing the biggest horse in the stables, he boldly set off for the hunt. The appearance of such a mite with boots that would scarcely keep on his feet, on the back of a big hunter, created great laughter among the county gentry at the meet. [Sidenote: Early education]