For a few moments Scoodrach was as if frozen. He sat gazing at the
rushing water, and then he sprang up and dashed past Max, shouting,--
"Come on! come on pefore he's trooned."
Max rushed after him, following the best way he could, for Scoodrach had
disappeared among the low growth of hazel, and it was only by listening
to the sound that he was able to make out the way the young gillie had
gone.
The distance was only some fifty yards down, through a depression which
led round to a kind of shelf just level with the top of the huge mass of
rock on to which the water fell, and Max forgot the danger in the
excitement, as he reached Scoodrach, who was standing holding on by the
thin branch of a birch tree which had grown outward, and hung drooping
over the great hollow below, and so near to the falling foam that its
outer leaves were sprinkled with the spray.
As Max crept to his side, Scoodrach gave him a horrified look, and
pointed at something in the bubbling water at the edge of the basin.
"What'll she do?" he cried despairingly; "if she climbs along the tree,
she canna chump it. Oh, look, look! Maister Ken! Maister Ken!"
Even if it had been possible, there was no time to render help, for, as
they gazed wildly at the basin into which the clear, smooth jet of water
fell, they saw that the apparently inanimate body of Kenneth was borne
nearer and nearer to the edge of the stone, and then slowly onward, to
glide over in the spreading veil, and then disappear in the foam and
mist far below.
"Pack again and doon to the bottom!" yelled Scoodrach, and he rushed by
Max so fiercely that he had to clutch at and hold on by a sapling to
prevent his own fall headlong into the watery hollow.
Max drew himself safely to the perpendicular wall, and crept back now
along the rugged ledge, which had not impressed him with its risky
nature before, and the perspiration stood out clammily on his temples as
he reached the place where he had begun to descend.
He was here in a dense growth of nut and birch, and he listened vainly
for the rustling made by Scoodrach as he ran down.
There was the dull roar of the falls behind him, and then a loud shout,
and either an echo or one in answer; but that was all; and a horrible
feeling of misery and despair at his helplessness came over the lad, as
he thought the worst, and of how terrible it would be to go back to the
castle and tell the tale.
His first instinct prompted him to cast himself down upon the earth and
yield to the sensation of despair, but his second was to go on and try
and do something to help.
In this intent he looked wildly round, to see nothing but a wilderness
of undergrowth, and in his excitement he dashed straight on, striking
the hazel stems to right and left, and, stumbling and falling again and
again, he ended by rolling and scrambling down a steep slope, to drop
into what might have been some terrible chasm, but only, as it happened,
a few feet, and, as he gathered himself up, it seemed that he had
inadvertently hit upon the rough track by which he had ascended.
At the end of a minute he recognised a peculiar-looking patch of rock
jutting out above him, and recalled how he had compared it to the head
of a bullock as he had clambered up.
That was enough, and the rest of the descent proved comparatively easy,
till he reached a spot where he could see on his right the foaming
waters of the fall, and down below, on the left, a glint or two of the
torrent, as it escaped from the lower basin and hurried along the deep
ravine toward the sea.
He gazed wildly at the base of the fall, in the vain hope that he might
catch sight of Kenneth clinging to some projecting stone; then he
scanned the wild below, but he could see nothing of his companions.
There was the spot where Tavish and Long Shon had sat smoking, but they
were gone, and there was no sign of Scoodrach. Nothing but the falling
water, with its deep, musical, humming roar, and the grand picture of
rock and tree made dim and distant-looking by the rising clouds of
rainbow-tinted spray.
He shouted with all his might, but there was only a dull echo; and,
after repeating his cry, and feeling that it was drowned by the deep
roar, he gave one more despairing look round, and ran on downward for a
few yards, but only to turn and almost retrace his steps by the rough
zigzag track, when he felt a strange catching of the breath, and stopped
short, just where, some distance below, a curve of the rushing stream
opened out before him, all white foam and glancing water, glistening and
flashing in the sun.
He had noticed it as he climbed upward with Kenneth and Scoodrach, and a
strange sensation of delight had thrilled him. But the beauty was all
gone, and he could see nothing now but the scene which seemed to check
his breath and fill him with despair.
For there, at the foot of a glistening curve of water which seemed to
leap from amidst a pile of black rocks, stood Tavish, bending forward.
Long Shon was below him, standing waist-deep, and holding on to prevent
being swept away, while Scoodrach was many feet above, climbing to his
right, and evidently scanning the stream.
"They think he's washed down there," cried Max aloud, "when he must be
up yonder at the foot of the falls."
He shouted wildly, but his feeble voice would not penetrate to them as
they stood amidst the racing water, and in his agony Max was in the act
of starting to run again, when he saw Scoodrach throw up his hands, and
directly after Tavish seemed to make a bound into the foam, where he
fell and disappeared.
Max's mouth felt dry at this fresh misfortune, and he stood as if turned
to stone, waiting to see the gillie reappear, which he did, but not
where Max expected by fifty yards farther down the stream, where Long
Shon stood, and, as the latter held on with one hand, he could be seen
to stoop and catch at something in the water.
Max could hardly believe what he saw, as Tavish rose up high above Long
Shon, when the pair slowly climbed out, the great forester with
something beneath one arm.
The frozen feeling of helplessness passed off, and Max ran on down the
rough slope, nearly falling again and again in his eagerness to reach
the spot where from time to time he could see the group, on a green bed
of moss beneath some pendulous birches; and when at last he reached
them, it was to find Kenneth lying upon his back, with his head and
shoulders supported against Tavish as he knelt there; Scoodrach stooping
and holding his hand; and Long Shon busily binding up a cut upon the
lad's head, the blood from which had trickled down over one cheek.
"Is--is he dead?" cried Max hoarsely.
There was no reply, and Max felt his heart seem to contract as he stood
in the pool of water which had streamed down from the group.
"Na, na," said Tavish, suddenly thrusting away Long Shon's hand. "She'd
petter let her pleed."
Long Shon looked at him wonderingly, but gave way.
"Maybe she shall. Puir laddie, ye canna dee like that."
But for a time it seemed as if poor Kenneth's race was run, so still and
white he looked.
"The doctor! some one go for a doctor."
"There's nae doctor this side o' Stirling or Inverness," said Long Shon
quietly. "Puir laddie! Was this your doing, Scoody?"
"Na, father; she tried to stop her," cried the boy piteously. "She
wouldna stay. Is she trooned?"
"Trooned! nay, not she," cried Tavish exultantly. "Look at her een.
She chust gave ane wee bit blinkie. Bide a wee, laddie, and she'll be
upon her legs again."
They watched and waited in a state of the greatest excitement, all but
Scoodrach, who, after giving himself a shake like a water-dog, and
wringing his kilt in front and behind, began to whistle in the most
indifferent manner, and ended by walking coolly away, to the
astonishment of all.
But they were too busy with Kenneth to pay any heed to the young
gillie's eccentricities, no one heeding his disappearance, as the
half-drowned boy's hands were chafed, and Tavish gently lowered his head
till he could lay it on a tuft of heath.
There had been a quiver or two of the eyelids, as Tavish had said, and
from time to time there was a faint fluttering of the pulses, but after
these manifestations the poor fellow seemed to relapse, and Long Shon,
who had been fidgeting and muttering against the forester's treatment,
impatiently dashed his bonnet on the ground.
"Ye're a' wrang, Tavvy!" he exclaimed,--"ye're a' wrang! Lat me tak'
haud o' the laddie's heels, and let her hing doon my back wi' her heid
close to the groon'."
"Hwhat for?" cried Tavish.
"Hwhat for?" cried Long Shon contemptuously. "Canna ye see that the
puir bairn's fu' o' watter. Lat's turn her up, man, an' lat a' t'
watter rin oot o' her mooth. Here, stan' aside."
"Gin ye touch the laddie, Long Shon, I'll gie ye a ding atween the een
as shall mak' ye see stars for a month. D'ye think I dinna ken that it
would kill the bairn at ance?"
"Na!" growled Long Shon; "I've seen 'em do it wi' the trooned men after
a wrack."
"Ay, and I've seen 'em dee wi' doing that same, Long Shon. D'ye think I
dinna ken what I'm aboot?"
"Ay," cried Long Shon stoutly, as Tavish kept on pressing Kenneth's ribs
with mighty force and letting them go.
"Ye're glad enow to come and lat me doctor ye, though, man. Hing the
puir laddie by his heels to lat the watter oot! Maun, ane wad think ye
were aboot to haunle a stag, and cut her up to send to toon. Hah! see
him the noo! see him the noo! Kenneth laddie--Kenneth, my bonnie
chiel'! Light o' my een, my bonnie young Chief! Hech! Hech! Hech for
ta Mackhai! Look at her the noo!"
Tavish had sprung up, uttering a wild yell, leaping off the ground, and
waving his bonnet in the air. For Kenneth had opened his eyes, gazed
wonderingly about, and then fixed them on Max, as he knelt down and took
his hand, and smiled.
"What is it?" he said feebly. "What's the matter?"
Max was choking. A great ball seemed to be rising in his throat, and he
had to get up hastily and turn away to hide his emotion.
"I--don't quite--What's the matter, Tavvy?"
"Matter, my bonnie laddie!" cried the great forester, dropping on his
knees and placing his hands tenderly on the injured brow; "on'y a wee
bit scratch on the heid. Gie's the cloth, Shon lad, and I'll bind it
up. Ye had a dip i' the watter, but ye're a' richt the noo."
"Yes, I'm all right now," said Kenneth feebly; and he smiled faintly in
the great forester's face, as the great rough fellow bound up his brow
as tenderly as a woman.
Max had drawn back, and, as soon as the two men's attention was taken
up, he crept round behind a clump of the hazels, and, as soon as he was
well alone, the pent-up emotion would have vent, and, sobbing wildly, he
dropped upon his knees and covered his face with his hands, repeating
the prayer of thanksgiving that rose to his lips:
"Thank God! Thank God!"
Then he started to his feet, ashamed of his emotion, dreading lest any
one should have seen his position and heard his words, for a low, hoarse
moan seemed to come from farther in the little patch of woodland.
Was there some one else hurt? he thought; and, taking a few steps in the
direction, he came suddenly upon Scoodrach at full length upon the moss,
face downwards and buried in the soft green growth, while his hands were
clutching his shortly-cut hair behind, and his shoulders heaved as he
moaned forth,--
"She'll never hantle a poat acain! she'll never rin wi' her ower the
hills! Maister--Maister Ken, she's deid, she's deid!"
"No, no, Scood!" cried Max excitedly. "He's better! He has just come
to!"
Scood sprang to his feet, and a flash of wild delight darted from his
wet red eyes. Then, as if recollecting himself, he dashed his hand
across them and gave it a slap against his side, scowling heavily.
"On'y ta watter rin doon oot o' her hair," he said surlily. "Ta young
Chief's not trooned?"
"No, no, Scood; he's--"
Max stared, for Scoodrach had turned his back, begun to whistle, and
walked away.
"He was ashamed to let me see him crying," thought Max. "I'm not the
only coward in the world."
He stood for a few moments gazing after Scoodrach, and then walked
quickly back, to find Kenneth sitting up.
"She's a teal petter the noo," cried Tavish triumphantly. "There,
laddie; ye'll get up, and we'll chust gang hame."
"Yes; I'm not much hurt, Max," said Kenneth, with a ghastly attempt at a
laugh. "I say, old chap, you couldn't do that. Here, give us your
hand."
Max eagerly tried to help him rise, and Kenneth made a brave effort to
get upon his legs, but he snatched at the forester's arm, with his face
contracting and turning ghastly pale, as his eyes looked dim and then
half closed.
They gently laid him down, and bathed his forehead with water.
"Chust a wee bit dizzy, puir laddie," said Tavish tenderly. "Bide a
wee, Long Shon, till he opes his een acain, and then ye shall put him on
my pack, and I'll carry him doon to the shore, and we'll mak' Scood rin
on and ket the poat and twa pillows, and ket him richt across to the
rock."
"Ay," said Long Shon approvingly. "But she must hae a teal o' watter in
her; shall she rin it oot the noo?"
"Na, na!" cried Tavish, in a low, fierce growl. "Hey, Scoody!"
"Well?" came from close by, and the young gillie showed himself, with
his face half averted.
"Rin, bairn, and get ta little poat an' row her to ta mooth o' ta
stream," cried Long Shon.
"Ay," cried Scoodrach, turning eagerly to run.
"An', Scoody, my laddie," cried Tavish, "ye'll chust ask Maister Crant
to fling twa pillows in ta poat."
"Yes."
"And, Scoody, ye'll chust say that the young Chief is a' richt the noo,
but that we're a' wat wi' sweet watter, and if she thinks a wee drappie
o' whusky would pe good for ta young Chief and the rest, she can pit it
in ta poat."
Scoodrach nodded, and ran off rapidly over the rugged ground, bounding
across the stones like a goat, and Kenneth now tried to rise.
"Ye'll pe a pit petter the noo, Maister Kenneth," said Tavish tenderly.
"She's chust sent for ta poat, and she'll kneel doon, and Long Shon will
help ye to get upo' her back, ant she'll carry ye chently doon to ta
mooth o' ta stream."
"Oh no, Tavvy; I can walk."
"Nay, laddie, ye canna walk. It winna pe ta first time she's carriet ye
on her pack. Noo, Long Shon, chust gie ta young Chief a lift, and--
that's ta way. Did she hurt ye?"
"Not--very much," said Kenneth, with a shudder of pain. "Thank ye, Tav,
old chap. There, I'm like a little boy again; but it's too bad to let
you carry me."
"Haud yer wheesht, Maister Ken--haud yer wheesht!" cried the big
forester angrily. "What would she pe for if it wasna to help ta young
Chief o' ta Mackhai? Why, Long Shon here and she would lie doon for ye
to walk upo' us if it would do ye good."
"Ay!" cried Long Shon.
"Noo then, slow and steady. Come along, Maister Max; and we'll be doon
to the sands before Scoodrach can get across ta bay."
The great fellow walked slowly and carefully down the gully; but, before
they had gone far, Kenneth's head dropped, and they laid him down again,
to revive him after a few minutes by bathing his face on the brink of
the rushing stream, after which Tavish raised him as tenderly as if he
had been a baby, and bore him in his arms.
They reached the shore at last, after a very slow progress, to find
Scoodrach approaching fast, and tugging at the oars with all his might.
"Is ta Mackhai at hame?" cried Long Shon, as the boy came within hail.
"Na," shouted Scoodrach, without turning his head, and toiling away till
he was close in, when he reversed the boat, and backed in till she
grounded on the sand.
The pillows were there, so was the whisky, but no one touched it.
Kenneth was laid carefully in the stern, and Max supported him,
Scoodrach scowling angrily at being sent into the bows; while the two
men made the water surge beneath the keel till they reached the rock,
where, once more taking the injured lad in his arms as if he were a
babe, Tavish carried him up the rock, and then right up to his bedroom,
where he stopped and tended him as carefully as a trained nurse.
"I've been a' ower him, Maister Crant, and ye may rest easy till ta
Mackhai comes pack. If she likes to sent for ta toctor, weel, let her
sent; pit there's naething wrang wi' the laddie, nae banes brukkit, and
naething wrang inside. She has gien her heit a gran' ding or twa, and
she's verra sair, and she's been maist trooned. I've seen to manny a
worse hurt than hers, so let the bairn go to sleep, and we'll see her
when she wacks."