of　the　Castle。　Away　over　to　the　east；　in　Broughton　market；　when　the　garrison　marched　away　and　at　Lauriston　when　they　returned；　Mr。　Traill　did　not　know　that　the　soldiers　had　been　out　of　the　city。　Busy　in　the　lodge　Mistress　Jeanie　had　not　seen　them　go　by　the　kirkyard；　and　no　one　else；　except　Mr。　Brown；　knew　the　fascination　that　military　uniforms；　marching　and　music　had　for　wee　Bobby。　A　fog　began　to　drift　in　from　the　sea。　Suddenly　the　grass　was　sheeted　and　the　tombs　blurred。　A　curtain　of　gauze　seemed　to　be　hung　before　the　lighted　tenements。　The　Castle　head　vanished；　and　the　sounds　of　the　drum　and　bugle　of　the　tattoo　came　down　muffled；　as　if　through　layers　of　wool。　The　lights　of　the　bull's…eyes　were　ruddy　discs　that　cast　no　rays。　Then　these　were　smeared　out　to　phosphorescent　glows；　like　the　〃spunkies〃　that　everybody　in　Scotland　knew　came　out　to　dance　in　old　kirkyards。
  It　was　no'　canny。　In　the　smother　of　the　fog　some　of　the　little　boys　were　lost；　and　cried　out。　Mr。　Traill　got　them　up　to　the　gate　and　sent　them　home　in　bands；　under　the　escort　of　the　students。　Mistress　Jeanie　was　out　by　the　wicket。　Mr。　Brown　was　asleep；　and　she　〃couldna　thole　it　to　sit　there　snug。〃　When　a　fog…horn　moaned　from　the　Firth　she　broke　into　sobbing。　Mr。　Traill　comforted　her　as　best　he　could　by　telling　her　a　dozen　plans　for　the　morning。　By　feeling　along　the　wall　he　got　her　to　the　lodge；　and　himself　up　to　his　cozy　dining…rooms。
  For　the　first　time　since　Queen　Mary　the　gate　of　the　historic　garden　of　the　Greyfriars　was　left　on　the　latch。　And　it　was　so　that　a　little　dog；　coming　home　in　the　night　might　not　be　shut　out。
  XI。
  It　was　more　than　two　hours　after　he　left　Bobby　in　Queen　Margaret's　Chapel　that　the　sergeant　turned　into　the　officers'　mess…room　and　tried　to　get　an　orderly　to　take　a　message　to　the　captain　who　had　noticed　the　little　dog　in　the　barracks。　He　wished　to　report　that　Bobby　could　not　be　found；　and　to　be　excused　to　continue　the　search。
  He　had　to　wait　by　the　door　while　the　toast　to　her　Majesty　was　proposed　and　the　band　in　the　screened　gallery　broke　into　〃God　Save　the　Queen〃；　and　when　the　music　stopped　the　bandmaster　came　in　for　the　usual　compliments。
  The　evening　was　so　warm　and　still；　although　it　was　only　mid…April；　that　a　glass…paneled　door；　opening　on　the　terrace；　was　set　ajar　for　air。　In　the　confusion　of　movement　and　talk　no　one　noticed　a　little　black　mop　of　a　muzzle　that　was　poked　through　the　aperture。　From　the　outer　darkness　Bobby　looked　in　on　the　score　or　more　of　men　doubtfully；　ready　for　instant　disappearance　on　the　slightest　alarm。　Desperate　was　the　emergency；　forlorn　the　hope　that　had　brought　him　there。　At　every　turn　his　efforts　to　escape　from　the　Castle　had　been　baffled。　He　had　been　imprisoned　by　drummer　boys　and　young　recruits　in　the　gymnasium；　detained　in　the　hospital；　captured　in　the　canteen。
  Bobby　went　through　all　his　pretty　tricks　for　the　lads；　and　then　begged　to　be　let　go。　Laughed　at；　romped　with；　dragged　back；　thrown　into　the　swimming…pool；　expected　to　play　and　perform　for　them；　he　rebelled　at　last。　He　scarred　the　door　with　his　claws；　and　he　howled　so　dismally　that；　hearing　an　orderly　corporal　coming；　they　turned　him　out　in　a　rough　haste　that　terrified　him。　In　the　old　Banqueting　Hall　on　the　Palace　Yard；　that　was　used　as　a　hospital　and　dispensary；　he　went　through　that　travesty　of　joy　again；　in　hope　of　the　reward。
  Sharply　rebuked　and　put　out　of　the　hospital；　at　last；　because　of　his　destructive　clawing　and　mournful　howling；　Bobby　dashed　across　the　Palace　Yard　and　into　a　crowd　of　good…humored　soldiers　who　lounged　in　the　canteen。　Rising　on　his　hind　legs　to　beg　for　attention　and　indulgence；　he　was　taken　unaware　from　behind　by　an　admiring　soldier　who　wanted　to　romp　with　him。　Quite　desperate　by　that　time；　he　snapped　at　the　hand　of　his　captor　and　sprang　away　into　the　first　dark　opening。　Frightened　by　the　man's　cry　of　pain；　and　by　the　calls　and　scuffling　search　for　him　without；　he　slunk　to　the　farthest　corner　of　a　dungeon　of　the　Middle　Ages；　under　the　Royal　Lodging。
  When　the　hunt　for　him　ceased；　Bobby　slipped　out　of　hiding　and　made　his　way　around　the　sickle…shaped　ledge　of　rock；　and　under　the　guns　of　the　half…moon　battery；　to　the　outer　gate。　Only　a　cat；　a　fox；　or　a　low；　weasel…like　dog　could　have　done　it。　There　were　many　details　that　would　have　enabled　the　observant　little　creature　to　recognize　this　barrier　as　the　place　where　he　had　come　in。　Certainly　he　attacked　it　with　fury；　and　on　the　guards　he　lavished　every　art　of　appeal　that　he　possessed。　But　there　he　was　bantered；　and　a　feint　was　made　of　shutting　him　up　in　the　guard…house　as　a　disorderly　person。　With　a　heart…broken　cry　he　escaped　his　tormentors；　and　made　his　way　back；　under　the　guns；　to　the　citadel。
  His　confidence　in　the　good　intentions　of　men　shaken；　Bobby　took　to　furtive　ways。　Avoiding　lighted　buildings　and　voices；　he　sped　from　shadow　to　shadow　and　explored　the　walls　of　solid　masonry。　Again　and　again　he　returned　to　the　postern　behind　the　armory；　but　the　small　back　gate　that　gave　to　the　cliff　was　not　opened。　Once　he　scrambled　up　to　a　loophole　in　the　fortifications　and　looked　abroad　at　the　scattered　lights　of　the　city　set　in　the　void　of　night。　But　there；　indeed；　his　stout　heart　failed　him。
  It　was　not　long　before　Bobby　discovered　that　he　was　being　pursued。　A　number　of　soldiers　and　drummer　boys　were　out　hunting　for　him；　contritely　enough；　when　the　situation　was　explained　by　the　angry　sergeant。　Wherever　he　went　voices　and　footsteps　followed。　Had　the　sergeant　gone　alone　and　called　in　familiar　speech；　〃Come　awa'　oot；　Bobby！〃　he　would　probably　have　run　to　the　man。　But　there　were　so　many　callsin　English；　in　Celtic；　and　in　various　dialects　of　the　Lowlandsthat　the　little　dog　dared　not　trust　them。　From　place　to　place　he　was　driven　by　fear；　and　when　the　calling　stopped　and　the　footsteps　no　longer　followed；　he　lay　for　a　time　where　he　could　watch　the　postern。　A　moment　after　he　gave　up　the　vigil　there　the　little　back　gate　was　opened。
  Desperation　led　him　to　take　another　chance　with　men。　Slipping　into　the　shadow　of　the　old　Governor's　House；　the　headquarters　of　commissioned　officers；　on　the　terrace　above　the　barracks；　he　lay　near　the　open　door　to　the　mess…room；　listening　and　watching。
  The　pretty　ceremony　of　toasting　the　bandmaster　brought　all　the　company　about　the　table　again；　and　the　polite　pause　in　the　conversation；　on　his　exit；　gave　an　opportunity　for　the　captain　to　speak　of　Bobby　before　the　sergeant　could　get　his　message　delivered。
  〃Gentlemen；　your　indulgence　for　a　moment；　to　drink　another　toast　to　a　little　dog　that　is　said　to　have　slept　on　his　master's　grave　in　Greyfriars　churchyard　for　more　than　eight　years。　Sergeant　Scott；　of　the　Royal　Engineers；　vouches　for　the　story　and　will　present　the　hero。〃
  The　sergeant　came　forward　then　with　the　word　that　Bobby　could　not　be　found。　He　was　somewhere　in　the　Castle；　and　had　made　persistent　and　frantic　efforts　to　get　out。　Prevented　at　every　turn；　and　forcibly　held　in　various　places　by　well…meaning　but　blundering　soldiers；　he　had　been　frightened　into　hiding。
  Bobby　heard　every　word；　and　he　must　have　understood　that　he　himself　was　under　discussion。　Alternately　hopeful　and　apprehensive；　he　scanned　each　face　in　the　room　that　came　within　range　of　his　vision；　until　one　arrested　and　drew　him。　Such　faces；　full　of　understanding；　love　and　compassion　for　dumb　animals；　are　to　be　found　among　men；　women　and　children；　in　any　company　and　in　every　corner　of　the　world。　Now；　with　the　dog's　instinct　for　the　dog…lover；　Bobby　made　his　way　about　the　room　unnoticed；　and　set　his　short；　shagged　paws　up　on　this　man's　knee。
  〃Bless　my　soul；　gentlemen；　here's　the　little　dog　now；　and　a　beautiful　specimen　of　the　drop…eared　Skye　he　is。　Why　didn't　you　say　that　the　'　bittie'　dog　was　of　the　Highland　breed；　Sergeant？　You　may　well　believe　any　extravagant　tale　you　may　hear　of　the　fidelity　and　affection　of　the　Skye　terrier。〃
  And　with　that　wee　Bobby　was　set　upon　the　polished　table；　his　own　silver　image　glimmering　among　the　reflections　of　candles　and　old　plate。　He　kept　close　under　the　hand　of　his　protector；　but　waiting　for　the　moment　favorable　to　his　appeal。　The　company　crowded　around　with　eager　interest；　while　the　man　of　expert　knowledge　and　love　of　dogs　talked　about　Bobby。
  〃You　see　he's　a　well…knit　little　rascal；　long　and　low；　hardy　and　strong。　His　ancestors　were　bred　for　bolting　foxes　and　wildcats　among　the　rocky　headlands　of　the　subarctic　islands。　The　intelligence；　courage　and　devotion　of　dogs　of　this　breed　can　scarcely　be　overstated。　There　is　some　far　away　crossing　here　that　gives　this　one　a　greater　beauty　and　grace　and　more　engaging　manners；　making　him　a　'sport'　among　rough　farm　dogsbut　look　at　the　length　and　strength　of　the　muzzle。　He's　as　determined　as　the　deil。　You　would　have　to　break　his　neck　before　you　could　break　his　purpose。　For　love　of　his　master　he　would　starve；　or　he　would　leap　to　his　death　without　an　instant's　hesitation。〃
  All　this　time　the　man　had　been　stroking　Bobby's　head　and　neck。　Now；　feeling　the　collar　under　the　thatch；　he　slipped　it　out　and　brought　the　brass　plate　up　to　the　light。
  〃Propose　your　toast　to　Greyfriars　Bobby；　Captain。　His　story　is　vouched　for　by　no　less　a　person　than　the　Lord　Provost。　The　'bittie'　dog　seems　to　have　won