CHAPTER TWO.
"A BORE!"
"What a bother!" muttered Kenneth, as he left the dining-room, crossedthe hall, and entered a little oak-panelled place filled with all kindsof articles used in the chase, and whose walls were dotted withtrophies--red deer and roebucks' heads, stuffed game, wild fowl, agolden eagle, and a pair of peregrine falcons. He took a double-barrelfrom 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 bonnethang over the hilt of an old claymore.
Carelessly putting this on, he sauntered out of the hall into theshingly path, where he was saluted by a chorus of barking. A greatrough-coated, long-legged deerhound came bounding up, followed first bya splendid collie with a frill about his neck like a wintry wolf, anddirectly after by a stumpy-legged, big-headed, rough grey Scotchterrier, with a quaint, dry-looking countenance, which seemed like thatof some crotchety old man.
"Hi, Bruce!" cried Kenneth, as the deerhound thrust a pointed nose intohis hand. "What, Dirk, lad!"
This to the collie, which reared up to put its paws upon his chest, andrubbed its head against its master; while the little dog ran round andround clumsily, barking all the while.
"Down, Dirk! Quiet, Sneeshing, quiet!"
The dogs were silent on the moment, but followed close at their master'sheels, eyeing the gun wistfully, the deerhound going further, andsnuffing at the lock. Being apparently satisfied that it was not arifle, and that consequently his services would not be required, thehound stopped short by a warm, sheltered place, crouched down, andformed 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 followedhis master, wagging a short stump of a tail the while, till Kennethnoted 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 whichtook the place of gravel, and Kenneth went slowly on along a path formedlike a shelf of the huge rock, which, a peninsula at low, an island athigh water, towered up from the blue sea an object of picturesquebeauty, and a landmark for the sailors who sailed among the fiords androcks of the western shore.
The scene around was glorious. Where the soft breeze did not turn thewater into dazzling, rippling molten silver which sent flashes of lightdarting through the clear air, there were broad bands of still water ofa brilliant blue; others beneath the shelter of the land were of a deeptransparent amethyst, while every here and there mountainous islandsrose from the sea, lilac, purple, and others of a delicate softenedblue, which died away into the faintest film.
Shoreward, glorified by the sunshine, the mountains rose from thewater's edge; grey masses of stone tumbled in confusion from a height offour thousand feet to the shore, with clusters of towering pine andlarch and groups of pensile birches in every sheltered nook. Here themountain showed patches of dark green and purple heath; there brilliantgreen and creamy beds of bog moss, among which seemed to run flashingveins of silver, which disappeared and came into sight, and in one placepoured down with a deep, loud roar, while a mist, looking like so muchsmoke, slowly rose from the fall, and floated away with a rainbow uponits breast.
On every side, as Kenneth Mackhai gazed around from the rocky foot ofthe mouldering old castle, there were scenes of beauty which would havesatisfied the most exacting. Cloud shadow, gleaming sunshine, purpleheather, yellow ragwort like dusts of gold upon the mountain side, andat his feet the ever-changing sea.
It was all so lovely that the lad stood as if entranced, and exclaimedaloud,--
"Bother!"
Then there was a pause, and, with an impatient stamp of his foot, heexclaimed,--
"Oh, hang it all! what a bore!"
But this was not at the scene around. Ken had looked upon it all instorm and sunshine ever since he could toddle, and he saw none of itnow. His mental gaze was directed at the salmon stream, the troutylochs, the moors with their grouse and black game, and the mountains byGlenroe where he was to have gone deer-stalking with Long Shon andTavish, and with Scood to lead the dogs, and now all this was to begiven up because a visitor was coming down.
"Ah-o! ah-o!" came from the water, and a boat came gliding round fromthe 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 wavingmotion which acts after the fashion of a screw propeller, and sends aboat along.
But the boat needed little propelling, for the tide swept swiftly roundby the rocky promontory on which the castle stood, and in a few minutesScood had run the little vessel close beside a table-like mass of rockwhich formed a natural pier, and, leaping out, rope in hand, he stoodwaiting for Kenneth to descend.
"Look here, you sir," cried the latter; "didn't I tell you to put onyour 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 asyou're told."
"And where am I to get another pair when they're worn out?" remonstratedScood.
"How should I know? There, jump in."
Ken set the example, which was followed by Scood, and, as the boatglided off, yielding to the stream and the impetus, a miserable yelpcame from the rocks above, followed by two dismal howls in differentkeys. Then there was an atrocious trio performed by the three dogs,each of which raised its muzzle and its eyes skyward, and uttered anunmusical 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 paidno heed to the command, but came closer down to the water, and howledmore loudly.
"Ah, Sneeshing!" cried Scoodrach.
"Yow--how!" cried the dog piteously, which evidently by interpretationout 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 tuckedhis tail between his legs, and rushed off as hard as ever he could layleg to rugged rock?
Nothing of the kind. He took it as a direct insult and an injuriousthreat. Raising his stumpy tail to its full height of two inches,without counting the loose grey hairs on the top, he planted his fourfeet widely apart, and barked furiously, changing his appealing whinesto 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 tothe very edge of the rock, barking, snarling, leaping up with all fourlegs off the rock at once, dashing to and fro, and biting at the scrapsof 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 youwass near."
"For two pins I'd give him a good peppering," grumbled Kenneth, slippinga couple of cartridges into the gun, and laying it down.
"Not you," said Scood, stepping the mast, Kenneth helping him with thestays, 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 herbows, and, as the little vessel seemed to stand still, the beautifulpanorama of rocky, tree-adorned shore glided by, Sneeshing's furiousbarking growing more distant, and dying right away.
Three Boys; Or, The Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai Page 2