"Ay, ay!"

"Pray take care of yourself."

"You tak' care o' yoursel', Maister Ken, and never mind me."

"Mind you don't catch cold."

"Eh?"

"Tie a handkerchief round your neck, and put your feet in warm water."

"What ye mean, Maister Ken?"

"Get Mother c.u.mstie to come and hold your hand, for fear you should fall off the rock."

"What ye talking aboot, sir?"

"Do be careful, Shon; there's a good man."

Long Shon stood on the rock, rubbing a great red, yellow-freckled ear; and then scratched one of his brawny cheeks, looking puzzled.

"Shall I send Scoody back, to lead you with a string?"

The distance was getting great now, and the man's voice sounded faint as he put his hands to his mouth to make a speaking-trumpet.

"She ton't know what you mean."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Scood.

"Go and teach your grandmother how to suck eggs," roared Kenneth in the same way; but Shon shook his head, for he could not hear the words; and Kenneth sank down in the boat, and pressed the tiller a little to port, so as to alter the boat's course slightly. "Scood," he cried pettishly, "your father's a jolly old woman."

Scood, who was half leaning back, enjoying the fun of hearing his father bantered, suddenly started up in a stiff sitting position, and tore off his Tam o' Shanter, to throw it angrily in the bottom of the boat, as his yellow face grew redder, and he cried fiercely,--

"No, she isna an auld woman. My father's a ferry coot man."

"No, he isn't; he's a regular silly old cow."

"My father's a man, and a coot man, and a coot prave man, and never wa.s.s an auld woman."

"Get out, you old thick-head!" cried Kenneth.

"I ton't say my het isna a coot thick het, Maister Ken; but my father is as coot a man as The Mackhai hersel'."

"Oh, all right, then; Long Shon is a coot prave man, but his legs are too short."

"She canna help her legs peing short," said Scood, who was still ruffled; "put they're ferry coot legs--peautiful legs."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Kenneth.

"So they are," cried Scood. "They're not so long, put they're much pigger rount than the Chief's."

"Bother! Hear him bragging about his father's old legs, Max! Here, you come and take a lesson in steering," said Kenneth, making fast the sheet, an act which made Scoodrach growl a little. "I can't steer and shoot."

"Shall she tak' the tiller?" said Scood.

"No; you stop forward there, and trim the boat. Well, Sneeshing, can you see anything?"

The dog was standing on the thwart forward, resting his paws on the gunwale, and watching the flight of the gulls. At the sound of his master's voice, he uttered a low bark.

"Whee-ugh, whee-ugh!" cried a bird.

"Look, Max, there he goes out of shot."

"What is it?"

"A whaup."

Max followed the flight of the bird eagerly as it flew off toward the sh.o.r.e of a long, low green island on their left.

"Now then, catch hold."

"I'm afraid I don't know how to steer," said Max nervously.

"Oh, it's easy enough. Keep her head like that, and if she seems to be going over, run her right up into the wind."

"But I don't know how."

"Never mind that. Half the way to know how is to try--eh, Scood?"

"Yes; if she nivver tries, she can't nivver do nothing at all so well as she should," said Scood sententiously.

"Hear that, Max?" cried Kenneth, laughing. "Scood's our philosopher now, you know."

"Na, she isna a flossipher," grumbled Scood. "Put look, Maister Ken-- seal!"

He sat perfectly still, gazing straight at some black rocks off a rocky islet.

"Where?--where?" cried Max eagerly. "I want to see a seal."

There was a soft, gliding motion on the black rock, and, almost without a splash, something round and soft and grey-looking plunged into the sea.

"You scared it away," said Kenneth.

"Oh, I am sorry!"

"Don't suppose the seal is; but I couldn't have hit it to do any harm with this gun."

The boat glided on, and all at once, from the water's edge about a hundred yards away, up rose, heavily and clumsily, a great flapping-winged bird.