"What shall we do?" said Kenneth.
Just as he spoke, Max made a jump and turned nimbly round, for
Sneeshing, who had not been touched by Donald's stone, had come
fidgeting round them, and had had a sniff at the visitor's legs.
"I say, Max, there must be something very nice about your legs," cried
Kenneth, laughing. "Don't set the dog at me, please."
"I didn't. It's only his way. Here, what shall we do--fish?"
"Not to-day," said Max, giving involuntarily a rub of one white leg
against the other.
"Well, let's go and have a shot at something."
"I think I would rather not," pleaded Max, who looked with horror upon
the idea of tramping the mountain side clothed as he was. "What do you
say to a sail, then?"
Max shivered as he recalled his sensations upon the ride from the
steamer; but there was a favourable side to such a trip--he could sit in
the boat and have a railway wrapper about him.
"Where would you go if we sailed?"
"Oh, anywhere. Up the loch, over the firth, and through the sound.
Over to Inchkie Island. We'll take the guns; we may get a shot at a
hare, hawk, or an eagle."
Max nodded.
"That's right. Get down, Bruce! don't you get smelling his legs, or we
shall have him bobbing off into the sea."
The great deerhound, who was approaching in a very suspicious manner,
eyeing Max's thin legs, turned off, and, choosing a warm, smooth piece
of rock, lay down.
"Off you go, Scood, and bring the boat round. Come on, Max, and let's
get the guns. You can shoot, can't you?"
"I think so," said Max, as Scoodrach went off at a trot.
"You think so?"
"Yes. I never fired a gun, but the man showed me how to load and take
aim, and it looks very easy."
"Oh yes, it looks very easy," said Kenneth dryly. "You just hold the
gun to your shoulder and point at a bird. Then you pull the trigger,
and down comes Dicky."
"Yes. I went to see men shoot pigeons after I had bought my gun. My
father said I had better."
"Oh, he said you had better, did he?"
Max nodded.
"And he thought that would do as well as shooting pigeons, for they come
expensive."
Kenneth laughed.
"Ah, well, we can give you something to shoot at here, without buying
pigeons; but you'll have to mind: my father wouldn't like it if you were
to shoot either me or Scood."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" cried Max. "It isn't likely."
"Glad of it," said Kenneth dryly. "Well, then, don't make a mistake and
shoot one of the dogs. I'm sure they would not like it. Where's your
gun?"
"In the case in my bedroom. Shall I fetch it?"
"Yes. Got any cartridges?"
"Oh yes, everything complete; the man saw to that."
"Look sharp, then," said Kenneth; and he had a hearty laugh as he saw
his new companion go upstairs.
In spite of the admonition to look sharp, Max was some few minutes
before he descended. For the first thing he saw on reaching his bedroom
were his two pairs of trousers, neatly folded, and lying upon a chair.
The gun was forgotten for the minute, and it was not long before the
kilt was exchanged for the southern costume in the form of tweeds, Max
sighing with satisfaction as he once more felt quite warmly clad.
Kenneth laughed as Max reappeared with his gun and cartridge belt in his
hand.
"Hallo!" he said; "soon tired of looking Scotch."
"I--I'm not used to it," said Max apologetically. "And never will be if
you go on like that."
"But I found my own things in my room, and it did not seem right to keep
on wearing yours."
"Wonder where they were?" said Kenneth dryly.
"I suppose the butler found them," said Max innocently.
Kenneth whistled, and looked rather peculiar, but his aspect was not
noticed by his companion, who was experimenting on the best way to carry
his gun.
"Loaded?"
"No, not yet."
"Then don't you load till I tell you. I'll give you plenty of time.
Come along."
"Going for a sail, Maister Ken?" cried a voice; and Long Shon came
waddling up, looking very red-faced and fierce.
"Yes, Shon, and we don't want you in the boat."
Long Shon grunted, and followed close behind.
"She could go instead of Scood."
"Yes, I know she could, but she isn't going," replied Kenneth, mimicking
the man's speech. "What would Scood say if I left him behind?"
"She could show you an eagle's nest up the firth."
"So can Scood. He knows where it is!"
Long Shon pulled a battered brass box out of his pouch, and took a big
pinch of snuff as he waddled behind.
"She knows where there's a raven's nest."
"That's what Scood told me this morning, Long Shon."
"But she tidn't know where there's a nest o' young blue hawks."
"Yes, I do, father," shouted Scood from the boat, in an ill-used tone,
for they were now down on the rocks, and Scoodrach was paddling the boat
in close.
"He wants me to turn you out, and take him instead, Scood. Shall I?"
"No!" said Scood undutifully.
"Petter tak' me, Maister Ken, and she can teach the young chentleman how
to hantle his gun."
"Look here, Shon, the young chentleman knows how to hantle his gun. I
don't want you, and I don't want your dogs. You, Sneeshing, come back."
The ugly little Scotch terrier had waited till Scoodrach came near, and
then crept down among the rocks to a crevice where he could get quietly
into the water without a splash, and was paddling to the side of the
boat, looking like an otter swimming.
Sneeshing whined and made a snap at the water.
"Do you hear, sir? Come back!" cried Kenneth; but just then Scood
leaned over the side, gripped the little dog by the loose skin at the
back of his neck, and lifted him into the boat.
Sneeshing's first act was to run forward and give himself a tremendous
shake to get rid of the water, and then he performed a sort of
triumphant dance, and ended by placing his forepaws over the side, and
barking at his fellows on the rock.
Bruce seemed to frown at him, showed his teeth, and then uttered a deep
baying bark; but Dirk answered the challenge of his little companion by
barking furiously, then running up and down upon the rocks for a few
moments, watching the boat, as if calculating whether he could leap in;
and ending by plunging into the sea with a tremendous splash.
"Come back, sir! Do you hear? come back!" shouted Kenneth, when Dirk
raised his head from the water, and uttered a remonstrant bark, which
seemed to say,--
"It isn't fair. You're letting him go."
"Hit him with an oar, Scood," cried Kenneth. "Here, you Dirk, come
back, sir, or I'll pepper you!"
As he spoke, Kenneth raised the gun he carried and took aim at the dog,
who threw up his head and uttered a piteous howl, but kept on swimming
up and down beside the boat.
"Will you come out, sir?"
Dirk howled again.
Click! click! sounded the hammers, as Kenneth drew the triggers; and
Dirk now burst forth into a loud barking.
"She says she knew it wasn't loated, Maister Ken," cried Long Shon,
laughing; "she's a ferry cunning tog, is Dirk."
"Hi, Dirk! look here," cried Kenneth; and he threw open the breech of
his gun and slipped in a couple of cartridges. "Now then, young
fellow," he continued, "the gun's loaded now; so come back and stop
ashore. You're not going."
"How-ow!"
Dirk's cry was very pitiful, and, whether he understood the fact of the
gun being loaded or not, he turned and swam slowly ashore, climbed on
the rock and stood dripping and disconsolate, without trying to scatter
the water from his coat.
"You'd better learn to mind, sir, or--"
Kenneth gave the dog's ribs a bang with the gun barrel, and Dirk whined
and crouched down, watching his master wistfully as he stepped off the
rock into the boat, and then held out his hand to Max to follow.
"Mind what you're doing, Scood," cried Long Shon. "Ta wint's going to
change."
Scood nodded, and began to hoist the sail; the wind caught it directly,
and the boat moved swiftly through the water.
"You're not going near the Mare's Tail to-day, are you?" said Max
anxiously, as Kenneth laid his gun across his knees.
"No, I wasn't going; but if you want to--Here, Scood, let's go and show
him the Grey Mare's Tail again."
"No! No! No!" cried Max excitedly; "and pray don't go into any
dangerous places."
He bit his lip with annoyance as soon as he had said the words, for he
felt that it had made him seem cowardly in the eyes of his companions.