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