"Ou ay, Maister Kenneth, only ton't tell the young chentleman lies.

Look, Maister Max, there's the teer, four, five, sax of them, over yon.

See?"

"Yes, I can see them; but are they really deer?"

"No," cried Kenneth; "they're bulls."

"They're not. Ton't you belief him. She can see quite plain. They're teer."

"If they were deer they'd bolt," cried Kenneth, shading his eyes; "they wouldn't stop there."

"There they go," cried Scood, as the graceful creatures trotted over the shoulder of a hill a mile or more away, all but one, which stood up against the sky, so that they could make out its great antlers.

"So they are," said Kenneth. "Why, Max, we must go after that fellow to-morrow. How is it they've come down here?"

"Been shot at somewhere else."

"Hadn't we better go back and get the rifles?"

"Noo? No; let's come to-morrow airly, and have a coot fair try."

"Perhaps that will be best," said Kenneth in a.s.sent, as the stag disappeared, and the boat sped on.

"But may you shoot stags?" said Max rather wonderingly.

"Of course, when they are on my father's part of the forest. That's his out there."

"Forest? Where?" asked Max wonderingly.

"Why, there."

"What, that place like a great common? There are no trees!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Scood. "Who ever heard of a forest with trees?"

"Hold your tongue, Scood, or I'll pitch you overboard."

"She's always talking spout pitching her overpoard, but she never does,"

muttered Scood.

"Our land runs right along there for three miles. Once upon a time The Mackhai's forest ran along for thirty miles."

"How is it that it does not now?"

"Father says the rascally lawyers--I beg your pardon. He was cross when he said that."

Kenneth hastily changed the subject, as he saw his companion's flushed countenance.

"I say, we'll come out here fishing one day. Like fishing for mackerel?"

"I never did fish for them."

"Oh, it's rare sport. We have a couple of rods out each side as we sail along, and catch plenty when there's a shoal. Looks high, doesn't it?"

"Yes," said Max, as the boat glided on over the calm heaving water till they were right under a great grey wall of crag, which towered above their heads, and cast clearly-cut reflections on the crystal water over which they rode.

"That's five hundred feet if it's an inch," said Kenneth, as he threw himself back and gazed up. "Look, Max."

"What at?"

"See those two black fellows on that ledge with their wings open?"

"Yes. What are they--blackbirds?"

"Black enough. Cormorants drying their plumage."

"But it hasn't been raining."

"No; but they've been diving, and got well wet. Why, they can swim under water like a fish."

"Go on, if you like telling travellers' tales," said Max, smiling.

"Well, of all the unbelieving old Jews! Just as if I was always trying to cram you! I tell you they do. So do the gannets and dookkers. They dive down, and swim wonderfully under water, and chase and catch the fish. They're obliged to."

"Look out! there she goes," cried Scoodrach.

Kenneth raised his gun, but the bird to which his attention was drawn was out of shot.

"That's the hen bird, Scood."

"Yes; and I can see where the nest is," cried the young gillie.

"Where?"

Kenneth laid his hand on Max's, which was upon the tiller, pressed it hard, and, to the lad's surprise, the boat glided round till she faced the wind, and then lay gently rising and falling, with the sail shivering slightly in the breeze.

"Yes, that's it, sure enough, on that ledge somewhere," said Kenneth, after a long stare up at the face of the grey crag. "See, Max?"

"No."

"Why, there, about fifty feet from the top. See now?"

"No."

"Oh, I say! where are your eyes? See that black split where the rock seems to go in?"

"Yes, I see that."

"Well, down a little way to the left, there's a--Oh, look at that!"