"Hoose on fire? Na, na; it's waur and waur than that. But still there's hope, sir. I have him in a tub, and though he is lying on his side he's gasping yet. Hallo! there they come."

In rushed Effie and Leonard, bright-eyed and rosy with joy and excitement.

Effie ran to her father's arms.

Leonard ran to his mother.

"We've caught Joe!" they both cried at once.

"I hooked him," cried Effie.

"I hauled him up," cried Leonard.

"And we both hauled him out."

"Dool [Note 1] on the day for the hoose o' Glen Lyle," exclaimed Peter, rolling his eyes.

"Come, father, come. Peter put him in a tub."

Captain Lyle followed Effie. There, sure enough, in the tub of water lay Joe, the monarch of the loch. Peter pointed to the animal's tail.

"How strange!" said Captain Lyle, as well he might, for a huge gold ring ran through the last vertebrae, and attached to this a plate, with the letters L.L., and the date 17--plainly visible.

A few minutes afterwards Joe seemed to recover all of a sudden, and began tearing round and round the tub, his huge jaws snapping and his eyes glaring like a demon's.

Every one started back astonished, but old Peter's antics were a sight to see.

He seized a big wooden lid and clapped it over the tub, and set himself on top thereof. Then he addressed himself to the cook--

"Run, ye auld roodas," he roared; "run to the kitchen, and fetch the biggest kettle-pot ye can lay yer claws on!"

The pot was duly fetched, and clapped upside down on top of the lid on the tub.

Then Peter flung his cap to the roof of the hall, and shouted, "Saved, saved! The auld hoose is saved yet."

Now after that Captain Lyle drew old Peter aside. What the old man communicated to his young master the reader may learn in good time; but certain it is, that in less than half an hour Joe found himself back once more in his old quarters, not very much the worse for his singular adventure, and that within a week a high wooden palisade was placed all round the lake, with only one gate, and that padlocked. Leonard wondered, and so did his gentle sister. They looked at each other in silence at first, then Effie shook a serious little head, and said solemnly,--

"We mustn't touch papa's pike any more."

"No," replied Leonard, thoughtfully, "Joe _is_ papa's pike, and he mustn't be touched."

Leonard and Effie were the only children of their parents, who loved them very much indeed. Captain Lyle was proud of his boy, and, I fear, made almost too much of a pet of his girl Effie. He indulged them both to their hearts' content, when they had done their duty for the day-- that is, when they had both returned from the village school, for in those good old days in Scotland the upper cla.s.ses were not above sending their boys and girls to the parish schools; there were of course no paupers went there, only the sons and daughters of farmers and tradespeople--when duty was over, then, Captain Lyle encouraged his children to play. Indeed, he seemed more like a big boy--a brother, for instance--than a father. He was always planning out new measures of enjoyment, and one of the best of these was what Leonard called _The Miniature Menagerie_.

I do most sincerely believe that the planning and building of this delightful little fairy palace saved the life of Captain Lyle. He had been invalided home in the month of January 1810--about ten months before the opening scene of our tale--and it was judged that a year and a half at least must elapse before he would be again fit for service.

War-worn and weary though he was, having served nearly a dozen years, he soon began, with returning health, to pine for activity, when the happy thought struck him to build a palace for his children's pets.

He communicated his ideas to Leonard and Effie, and they were delighted.

"Of course," said Leonard, "we must a.s.sist."

"a.s.suredly you must," said Captain Lyle; "the pie would be no pie at all unless you had a finger in it."

The first thing that the head of the house of Glen Lyle had done was to sit down in his study one evening after dinner, with the great oil lamp swinging in front of him, a huge bottle of ink, and a dozen pens and pencils lying on the table, to say nothing of a whole regiment of mathematical instruments that had been all through the French war, compa.s.ses, rules, squares, triangles, semi-circles, and what not.

The second thing that Captain Lyle had done was, with a pencil, to fill a big page of paper with all kinds of droll faces and figures.

Little Effie climbed up behind his chair before long and had a peep over his shoulder.

"Oh, papa dear!" she cried, "that is not making a menagerie."

"I know it isn't, Effie. I think my thoughts had gone a wool-gathering."

"Well," said Effie, considering, "we may want some wool for nests and things; but don't you think, papa, that we should build the house first, and look for the wool afterwards?"

"Oh!" cried Leonard, "don't worry about the wool. Captain Lyle, your son Leonard, who stands before you, knows where to find lots of it. For whenever a sheep runs through a hedge--and they're always, running through hedges, you know--they leave a tuft of wool on every thorn."

"Well, my son, we'll leave the wool out of the question for the present." Then he walked about smiling to himself for a time and thinking, while the boy and girl amused themselves turning over the leaves of an old-fashioned picture-book.

"Hush!" said Effie several times when Leonard laughed too loud. "Hush!

for I'm sure papa is deep in thought."

"I have it!" cried papa.

And down he sat.

Words, and figures, and little morsels of sketches came very fast now, the secret of his present success being that he did not try to force himself to think, and my readers will find that our best thoughts come to us when we do not try to worry after them.

Yes, Captain Lyle's ideas were flowing now, so quickly that he had to jot them down, or sketch them down here and there all over a great sheet of paper, and in about an hour's time the rush of thought had, in a measure, expended itself. He leant back in his chair, and gave a sigh of relief.

Once more Effie came stealing up on tiptoe and peeped over his shoulder.

"Oh, what a scrawl!" she cried.

"My dear Eff," said her father, "that is only the crude material."

"Leonardie," cried Effie, "come and see the rude material."

"Well, it does seem rude enough material," said Leonard.

"Yes," said Effie, "but I'm sure my clever papa will make something out of it before he has done."

Note 1. Dool, _Scottice_--Grief or sorrow.

Book 1--CHAPTER THREE.