"A BORE!"
"What a bother!" muttered Kenneth, as he left the dining-room, crossed
the hall, and entered a little oak-panelled place filled with all kinds
of articles used in the chase, and whose walls were dotted with
trophies--red deer and roebucks' heads, stuffed game, wild fowl, a
golden eagle, and a pair of peregrine falcons. He took a double-barrel
from the rack, placed a supply of cartridges in a belt, buckled it on,
and then returned to the oak-panelled hall, to pause where his bonnet
hang over the hilt of an old claymore.
Carelessly putting this on, he sauntered out of the hall into the
shingly path, where he was saluted by a chorus of barking. A great
rough-coated, long-legged deerhound came bounding up, followed first by
a splendid collie with a frill about his neck like a wintry wolf, and
directly after by a stumpy-legged, big-headed, rough grey Scotch
terrier, with a quaint, dry-looking countenance, which seemed like that
of some crotchety old man.
"Hi, Bruce!" cried Kenneth, as the deerhound thrust a pointed nose into
his hand. "What, Dirk, lad!"
This to the collie, which reared up to put its paws upon his chest, and
rubbed its head against its master; while the little dog ran round and
round clumsily, barking all the while.
"Down, Dirk! Quiet, Sneeshing, quiet!"
The dogs were silent on the moment, but followed close at their master's
heels, eyeing the gun wistfully, the deerhound going further, and
snuffing at the lock. Being apparently satisfied that it was not a
rifle, and that consequently his services would not be required, the
hound stopped short by a warm, sheltered place, crouched down, and
formed itself into an ornament upon the sea-washed rock.
"There, you can do the same, Dirk. It's boat day," said Kenneth.
The collie uttered a whine and a loud bark.
"Yes, it's boat day, lad. Be off!"
The dog stopped short, and only the little ugly grey terrier followed
his master, wagging a short stump of a tail the while, till Kenneth
noted his presence.
"No, not to-day," he said sharply.
"Wuph!"
"No. Can't take you. Go back, old chap. Another time!"
Sneeshing uttered a low whine, but he dropped down on the shingle which
took the place of gravel, and Kenneth went slowly on along a path formed
like a shelf of the huge rock, which, a peninsula at low, an island at
high water, towered up from the blue sea an object of picturesque
beauty, and a landmark for the sailors who sailed among the fiords and
rocks of the western shore.
The scene around was glorious. Where the soft breeze did not turn the
water into dazzling, rippling molten silver which sent flashes of light
darting through the clear air, there were broad bands of still water of
a brilliant blue; others beneath the shelter of the land were of a deep
transparent amethyst, while every here and there mountainous islands
rose from the sea, lilac, purple, and others of a delicate softened
blue, which died away into the faintest film.
Shoreward, glorified by the sunshine, the mountains rose from the
water's edge; grey masses of stone tumbled in confusion from a height of
four thousand feet to the shore, with clusters of towering pine and
larch and groups of pensile birches in every sheltered nook. Here the
mountain showed patches of dark green and purple heath; there brilliant
green and creamy beds of bog moss, among which seemed to run flashing
veins of silver, which disappeared and came into sight, and in one place
poured down with a deep, loud roar, while a mist, looking like so much
smoke, slowly rose from the fall, and floated away with a rainbow upon
its breast.
On every side, as Kenneth Mackhai gazed around from the rocky foot of
the mouldering old castle, there were scenes of beauty which would have
satisfied the most exacting. Cloud shadow, gleaming sunshine, purple
heather, yellow ragwort like dusts of gold upon the mountain side, and
at his feet the ever-changing sea.
It was all so lovely that the lad stood as if entranced, and exclaimed
aloud,--
"Bother!"
Then there was a pause, and, with an impatient stamp of his foot, he
exclaimed,--
"Oh, hang it all! what a bore!"
But this was not at the scene around. Ken had looked upon it all in
storm and sunshine ever since he could toddle, and he saw none of it
now. His mental gaze was directed at the salmon stream, the trouty
lochs, the moors with their grouse and black game, and the mountains by
Glenroe where he was to have gone deer-stalking with Long Shon and
Tavish, and with Scood to lead the dogs, and now all this was to be
given up because a visitor was coming down.
"Ah-o! ah-o!" came from the water, and a boat came gliding round from
the little bay behind the castle, with Scood standing up in the stern,
and turning an oar into a fish's tail, giving it that peculiar waving
motion which acts after the fashion of a screw propeller, and sends a
boat along.
But the boat needed little propelling, for the tide swept swiftly round
by the rocky promontory on which the castle stood, and in a few minutes
Scood had run the little vessel close beside a table-like mass of rock
which formed a natural pier, and, leaping out, rope in hand, he stood
waiting for Kenneth to descend.
"Look here, you sir," cried the latter; "didn't I tell you to put on
your shoes and stockings?"
"Well, she's got 'em in the poat all ready."
"I'll get you in the boat all ready!" cried Ken angrily. "You do as
you're told."
"And where am I to get another pair when they're worn out?" remonstrated
Scood.
"How should I know? There, jump in."
Ken set the example, which was followed by Scood, and, as the boat
glided off, yielding to the stream and the impetus, a miserable yelp
came from the rocks above, followed by two dismal howls in different
keys. Then there was an atrocious trio performed by the three dogs,
each of which raised its muzzle and its eyes skyward, and uttered an
unmusical protest against being left behind.
"Yah, kennel! go home!" roared Kenneth; and the collie and deerhound,
after another mournful howl apiece, went back, but the grey terrier paid
no heed to the command, but came closer down to the water, and howled
more loudly.
"Ah, Sneeshing!" cried Scoodrach.
"Yow--how!" cried the dog piteously, which evidently by interpretation
out of the canine tongue meant, "Take me!"
"Will you be off?" shouted Kenneth.
"How-aoooo!"
"If you don't be off, I'll--"
The lad raised his gun, cocked both barrels, and took aim.
The effect upon the ugly little terrier was instantaneous. He tucked
his tail between his legs, and rushed off as hard as ever he could lay
leg to rugged rock?
Nothing of the kind. He took it as a direct insult and an injurious
threat. Raising his stumpy tail to its full height of two inches,
without counting the loose grey hairs on the top, he planted his four
feet widely apart, and barked furiously, changing his appealing whines
to growls of defiance.
"You shall not frighten him," said Scood, showing his teeth.
"I'll let you see," cried Kenneth. "Here, you, Sneeshing, be off!
home!"
There was a furiously defiant roulade of barks.
"Do you hear, sir? Go home!"
A perfect volley of barks.
Bang!
Kenneth fired over the dog.
"You shall not frighten him," said Scoodrach again.
He was quite right, for the shot seemed to madden the dog, who came to
the very edge of the rock, barking, snarling, leaping up with all four
legs off the rock at once, dashing to and fro, and biting at the scraps
of lichen and seaweed.
"She says you're a coward, and don't dare do it again," cried Scoodrach,
grinning.
"Does he? Then we'll see," cried Kenneth, firing again in the air.
"I told you so," cried Scoodrach. "Look at him. She'd bite you if you
wass near."
"For two pins I'd give him a good peppering," grumbled Kenneth, slipping
a couple of cartridges into the gun, and laying it down.
"Not you," said Scood, stepping the mast, Kenneth helping him with the
stays, and to hoist a couple of sails. Then the rudder was hooked on,
and, as the rapid current bore them out beyond the point, the wind
filled the sails, the boat careened over, the water rattled beneath her
bows, and, as the little vessel seemed to stand still, the beautiful
panorama of rocky, tree-adorned shore glided by, Sneeshing's furious
barking growing more distant, and dying right away.