The hearty breakfast of salmon steaks, freshly-caught herrings,
oat-cakes, and coffee, sweetened by the seaside appetite, seemed to
place matters in a different light. The adventure in the cave that
morning was rough, but Kenneth was merry and good-tempered, and ready to
assure his new companion that it was for his good. Then, too, the
bright sunshine, the glorious blue of the sea, and the invigorating
nature of the air Max breathed, seemed to make everything look more
cheerful.
Before they took their places at the table, the stony look of the Scotch
butler was depressing; so was the curt, distant "Good morning, Mr
Blande," of The Mackhai, who hardly spoke afterwards till toward the end
of the meal, but read his newspaper and letters, leaving his son to
carry on the conversation.
"I say, Grant, aren't there any hot scones this morning?"
"No, sir," said the butler, in an ill-used whisper.
"Why not?"
"The cook says she can't do everything without assistance."
"Then she ought to get up earlier--a lazy old toad! It was just as bad
when there was a kitchen-maid."
The butler looked more severe than ever, and left the room.
"He's always grumbling, Max--here, have some marmalade."
Max took a little of the golden preserve, and began to spread it on a
piece of bread.
"You are a fellow," said Kenneth mockingly; "that isn't the way to eat
marmalade. Put a lot of butter on first."
"What, with jam?"
"Of course," said Kenneth, with a grin, as he gave a piece of bread a
thick coating of yellow butter, and then plastered it with the golden
red-rinded sweet. "That's the way to eat marmalade!" he cried, taking,
out a fine half-moon from the slice. "That's the economical way."
"Extravagant, you mean?"
"No, I don't; I mean economical. Don't you see it saves the bread? One
piece does for both butter and marmalade."
"I don't know how you manage to eat so much. You had a fried herring
and--"
"A piece of salmon, and some game pie, and etceteras. That's nothing.
I often have a plate of porridge as well. You'll eat as much as I do
when you've been down here a week."
"I hope not."
"Nonsense! Why, it's just what you want. Here, you let me take you in
hand, and I'll soon make a difference in you. See how white and thin
you are."
"Am I?"
"Yes, horrid! You shall have some porridge and milk to-morrow morning.
That's the stuff, as Long Shon says, to lean your back against for the
day."
"I don't understand you!"
"Lean it against forwards," said Kenneth, laughing. "Besides, we only
have two meals here a day."
"Only two?" cried Max, staring. "Why, we always have four at home!"
"That's because you don't know any better, I suppose. You can have
lunch and tea here if you like," said Kenneth contemptuously, "but we
never do--we haven't time."
"Haven't time?"
"No. Who's going to come back miles from shooting or fishing for the
sake of a bit of lunch. I always take mine with me."
"Oh, then you do take lunch?" said Max, with a look of relief.
"Yes, always," said Kenneth, showing his white teeth. "I'm taking it
now--inside. And old Grant's always grumbling to me about having so
much to do now father does not keep any other men-servants indoors.
Only two meals a day to see to, and we very seldom have any company
now."
"I hope Mr Blande is making a good breakfast, Kenneth," said The
Mackhai, laying down his newspaper.
"No, father, not half a one."
"Oh, thank you, I am indeed."
"I hope Mr Blande will," said The Mackhai stiffly. "Pray do not let
him think we are wanting in hospitality at Dunroe."
"I'll take care of him, father."
"Quite right, Ken. What are you going to do to-day?"
"Take him up to the Black Pools and try for a salmon, and go afterwards
with the guns across the moor up Glen Doy, and then right up the Ten
after a hare or two. After that we could take the boat, and--"
"I think your programme is long enough for to-day, Ken," said The
Mackhai dryly. "You will excuse me, Mr Blande," he continued, with
formal politeness; "I have some letters to write."
"How about the deer, father?"
"Shon is packing them off for the South, my boy. Good morning."
The Mackhai walked stiffly out of the room, and Kenneth seized a plate
and knife and fork, after which he cut a triangle of a solid nature out
of a grouse pie, and passed the mass of juicy bird, gelatinous gravy,
and brown crust to his guest.
"I couldn't, indeed I couldn't!" cried Max.
"But you must," cried Kenneth, leaping up. "I'm going to ring for some
more hot coffee!"
"No, no, don't, pray!" cried Max, rising from the table.
"Oh, all right," said Kenneth, in an ill-used manner; "but how am I to
be hospitable if you won't eat? Come on, then, and I'll introduce you
to Long Shon. I'll bet a shilling he has got Scood helping him, and so
greasy that he won't be fit to touch."
Max stared, and Kenneth laughed at his wonderment.
"Didn't you hear what my father said? Shon has been skinning and
breaking up the deer."
"Breaking up the deer?"
"Well, not with a hammer, of course. Doing what a butcher does--cutting
them up in joints, you'd call it. Come along."
He led the way into the hall, seized his cap, and went on across the old
castle court, stopping to throw a stone at a jackdaw, perched upon one
of the old towers.
"He's listening for Donald. That's his place where he practises. I
daresay he's up there now, only we can't stop to see."
Outside the old castle they were saluted by a trio of yelps and barks,
the three dogs, after bounding about their master, smelling Max's legs
suspiciously, Sneeshing, of the short and crooked legs, pretending that
he had never seen a pair of trousers before, and taking hold of the
material to test its quality, to Max's horror and dismay.
"Oh, he won't bite!" cried Kenneth; "it's only his way."
"But even a scratch from a dog's tooth might produce hydrophobia," said
Max nervously.
"Not with Scotch dogs," said Kenneth, laughing. "Here, Sneeshing, you
wouldn't give anybody hydro-what-you-may-call-it, would you, old man,
eh?"
He seized the rough little terrier as he spoke, and turned him over on
his back, caught him by the throat and shook him, the dog retaliating by
growling, snarling, and pretending to worry his master's hand.
This piece of business excited Dirk the collie, who shook out his huge
frill, gave his tail a flourish, and made a plunge at the prostrate dog,
whom he seized by a hind leg, to have Bruce's teeth fixed directly in
his great rough hide, when Kenneth rose up laughing.
"Worry, worry!" he shouted; and there was a regular canine scuffle, all
bark and growl and suppressed whine.
"They'll kill the little dog," cried Max excitedly.
"What, Sneeshing? Not they. It's only their fun. Look!"
For Sneeshing had shaken himself free of Dirk, over whose back he
leaped, then dashed under Bruce, raced round the other two dogs for a
few moments, and then darted off, dodging them in and out among the
rocks, the others in full pursuit till they were all out of breath, when
Sneeshing came close up to his master's heels, Bruce trotted up and
thrust his long nose into his hand, while Dirk went to the front, looked
up inquiringly, and then, keeping a couple of yards in front, led the
way toward a cluster of grey stone buildings hidden from the castle by a
stumpy group of firs.
"He knows where we are going," said Kenneth, laughing, and stopping as
they reached the trees. "Hear that! Our chief singing bird."
Max stared inquiringly at his guide, as a peculiar howl came from beyond
the trees, which sounded as if some one in a doleful minor key was
howling out words that might take form literally as follows:--
"Ach--na--shena--howna howna--wagh--hech--wagh!"
"Pretty, isn't it?" said Kenneth, laughing. "Come away. The ponies are
in here."
He led the way into a comfortable stable, whereupon there was a rattling
of headstalls, and three ugly big rough heads were turned to look at
him, and three shaggy manes were shaken.
"Hallo, Whaup! Hallo, Seapie! Well, Walter!" cried Kenneth, going up
and patting each pony in turn, the little animals responding by nuzzling
up to him and rubbing their ears against his chest.
"Look here!" cried Kenneth. "This is Walter. You'll ride him. Come
and make friends."
Max approached, and then darted back, for, rip rap, the pony's heels
flew out, and as he was standing nearly across the stall, they struck
the division with a loud crack, whose sound made Max leap away to the
stable wall.
"Quiet, Wat!" cried Kenneth, doubling his fist and striking the pony
with all his might in the chest.
The sturdy little animal uttered a cry more like a squeal than a neigh,
shook its head, reared up, and began to strike at the lad with his hoofs
so fiercely, that. Kenneth darted out of the stall, the halter checking
the pony when it tried to follow, and keeping it in its place in the
punishment which followed.
"That's it, is it, Master Wat, eh?" cried Kenneth, running to a corner
of the stable, and taking down a short thick whip which hung from a
hook. "You want another lesson, do you, my boy? You've had too many
oats lately. Now we shall see. Stand a little back, Max."
This Max readily did, the pony eyeing them both the while, with its head
turned right round, and making feints of kicking.
The next minute it began to dance and plunge and kick in earnest, as, by
a dexterous usage of the whip, Kenneth gave it crack after crack, each
sounding report being accompanied by a flick on the pony's ribs, which
evidently stung sharply, and made it rear and kick.
"I'll teach you to fight, my lad. You rhinoceros-hided old ruffian,
take that--and take that--and take that."
"Hey! what's the matter, Master Ken?" cried a harsh voice.
"Kicking and biting, Shon. I'll teach him," cried Kenneth, thrashing
away at the pony. "I wish he had been clipped, so that I could make him
feel."
"Hey! but ye mak' him feel enough, Master Ken. An' is this the
shentleman come down to stay?"
"There's one more for you, Wat, my boy. Don't let him have any more
oats to-day, Shon," cried Kenneth, giving the pony a final flick. "Yes,
this is our visitor, Shon. Max, let me introduce you. This is Long
Shon Ben Nevis Talisker Teacher, Esquire, Gillie-in-chief of the house
of Mackhai, commonly called Long Shon from his deadly hatred of old
whusky--eh, Shon?"
"Hey, Master Kenneth, if there was chokers and chief chokers down south,
an' ye'd go there, ye'd mak' a fortune," said the short, broad-set man,
with a grin, which showed a fine set of very yellow teeth; "and I'm
thenking that as punishment aifter a hard job, ye might give me shust a
snuff o' whusky in a sma' glass."
"Father said you were never to have any whisky till after seven
o'clock."
"Hey, but the Chief's never hard upon a man," said Shon, taking off his
Tam-o'-Shanter, and wiping his brow with the worsted tuft on the top;
then, turning with a smile to Max, "I'm thenking ye find it a verra
beautiful place, sir?"
"Oh yes, very," replied Max.
"And the Chiefs a gran' man. Don't ye often wonder he ever had such a
laddie as this for a son?"
"Do you want me to punch your head, Shon?" said Kenneth.
Shon chuckled.
"As hard as hard, sir; never gives a puir fellow a taste o' whusky."
"Look here, have you broken up the deer?"
"Broke up the deer, indeed? Why, she wass just finished packing them up
in ta boxes."
"Come and see, Max," cried Kenneth, leading the way into a long, low
building, badly lit by one small window, through which the sun shone
upon a man seated crouched together upon a wooden block, with one elbow
upon his bare knee, and a pipe held between his lips.
"Hallo, Tavish, you here?" cried Kenneth. "Here, Max, this is our
forester. Stand up, Tavish, and let him see how tall you are."
Max had stopped by the doorway, for the smell and appearance of the
ill-ventilated place were too suggestive of a butcher's business to make
it inviting; but he had taken in at a glance a pile of deal cases, a
block with knives, chopper, and saw, and the heads, antlers, and skins
of a couple of red deer.
The smoker smiled, at least his eyes indicated that he smiled, for the
whole of the lower part of his face was hidden by the huge beard which
swept down over his chest, and hid his grey flannel shirt, to mingle
with the hairy sporran fastened to his waist.
Then the pipe was lowered, two great brown hairy hands were placed upon
his knees, and, as the muscular arms straightened, the man slowly heaved
up his back, keeping his head bent down, till his broad shoulders nearly
touched the sloping roof, and then he took a step or two forward.
"She canna stand quite up without knocking her head, Master Kenneth."
"Yes, you can--there!" cried Kenneth. "Now then, head up. There, Max,
what do you think of him? Six feet six. Father says he's half a
Scandinavian. He can take Shon under one arm and Scood under the other,
and run with them up-hill."
Max stared wonderingly at the great good-tempered-looking giant, with
high forehead and kindly blue eyes, which made him, with his aquiline
nose, look as grand a specimen of humanity as he had ever seen.
"She knockit her head against that beam once, sir and it's made her
verra careful ever since. May she sit down now, Master Kenneth?"
"Yes, all right, Tavish; I only wanted my friend to see how big you
are."
"Ah, it's no great thing to be so big, sir," said the great forester,
slowly subsiding, and doubling himself up till he was once more in
reasonable compass on the block. "It makes people think ye can do so
much wark, and a man has a deal to carry on two legs."
"Tavish is afraid of the work," grumbled Shon. "I did all these up
mysel'."
"An' why not?" said the great forester, in a low, deep growl. "She
found the deer for the Chief yester, and took the horns when he'd shot
'em and prought 'em hame as a forester should."
"Never mind old Shon, Tavish. Look here, what are you going to do
to-day?"
"Shust rest hersel' and smock her pipe."
"No; come along with us, Tav. I want my friend here to catch a salmon."
"Hey! she'll come," said the forester, in a low voice which sounded like
human thunder, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, he stuck the
stem inside his sock beside the handle of a little knife, but started
slightly, for the bowl burnt his leg, and he snatched it out and thrust
it in the goatskin pocket that hung from his waistband.
"And Scood and me are to be left to get off these boxes!" cried Shon
angrily.
"No, you'll have to do it all yourself, Shon," said Kenneth, laughing;
"Scood's coming along with us."
"Scood--die!" he shouted as soon as he was outside, and there was an
answering yell, followed by the pat pat of footsteps as the lad came
running up.
Tavish bent down as if he were going to crawl as he came out of the
door.
"Why, you stoop like an old goose coming out of a barn, Tavvy," cried
Kenneth, laughing. "How particular you are over that old figurehead of
yours."
"Well, she's only got one head, Master Kenneth; and plows on the top are
not coot for a man."
"Never mind, come along. Here, Scood, get two rods and the basket.
You'll find the fly-book and the gaff on the shelf."
"I have a fishing-rod--a new one," said Max excitedly.
"Oh! ah! so you have," replied Kenneth. "Never mind, we'll try that
another day. Can you throw a fly?"
"I think so," said Max dubiously. "I never tried, though."
The big forester stared down at him, as he drew a blue worsted cap of
the kind known as Glengarry from his waist, where it had been hanging to
the handle of a hunting-knife or dirk, and, as he slowly put it on over
his shaggy brown hair, his fine eyes once more seemed to laugh.
"He'll catch one, Tavvy, a forty-pounder, eh?" cried Kenneth, giving the
forester a merry look.
"Nay, she shall not catch a fush like that," said the forester.
"Get out! How do you know?" cried Kenneth.
"Oh, she kens that verra weel. She shall not catch the fush till she
knows how."
"We'll see about that," cried Kenneth, catching Max by the arm. "Here,
Tav, you see that Scood gets the rods all right. I want to introduce
Mr Blande to old Donald."
"She will be all retty," said the forester, nodding his head slowly, and
standing gazing after the two lads till they were some yards away, when
he stopped the nodding motion of his head and began to shake it slowly,
with his eyes seeming to laugh more and more.
"She means little cames with the laddie; she means little cames."