Only the echoes answered his call; and Kenneth impatiently coaxed out the dog, who seemed to think that his work was done.

"He has been here, father, and they've gone on."

"Ta loons air hiding, laddie," whispered Tavish, "and hearin' every word we say. Hey! but Dirk has it again. Gude tog! gude tog!"

Dirk had suddenly taken up the track again, and followed faithfully on, right up the side of the glen, and away over the level mountain plain, after tracking the fugitive by the side of a great fall, which made its way downward into the loch.

The rest of the hunt was easy, for Dirk took them on and on; Kenneth growing so excited, as he felt that the end of the chase was near, that he left Tavish and his father far in the rear.

Then Dirk dashed right away, and Kenneth was in turn left behind, till he knew that the dog had found, for his loud baying came from away in the darkness, as he stood barking over the spot where Max lay, half asleep, half in a state of stupor, brought on by cold.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

INSTRUCTIONS FROM LONDON.

"There, you jolly old scaramouch!" cried Kenneth, laughing. "Now I can serve you out."

"No, no, Kenneth; let me get up, please."

"Deal of mercy you had on me when I was ill. Now it's my turn, and I've got you. I'll serve you out."

"But, indeed, I am well enough to get up."

"No, you're not. Tavvy says you are not to stir, and you must make the best of it."

There was a scratching at the door just then, and Kenneth ran across the carpet to admit Dirk, who gave a sharp bark, and bounded to the bed to nuzzle his nose in Max's hand.

"Did you ever see such a dog as that, Maxy? There are not many that would have hunted you out as he did."

"No, I suppose not," said Max sadly and wearily, as he lay there, suffering from the chill brought on by his exposure upon the mountains four nights before. "But it was a pity you brought me back."

"That's five times you've said that to-day," cried Kenneth. "Now, just you say it once more, and I'll punch your head."

Max shook the threatened part of his person sadly, and then lay looking wearily at the window.

"Look here, old chap!" said Kenneth suddenly; "father says if you are not better by to-night, he shall send to Glasgow for a doctor to come and stop with you, and write word to your governor in London."

"I'm--I'm much better," said Max hastily. "I shall not want a doctor; and tell Mr Mackhai that I want to go home as soon as I can start."

"All right, Maxy, old chap," said Kenneth slowly and sadly; "but I say, look here--"

He stopped short, and, in a quiet, methodical way, law his hand upon his friend's brow.

"I say, how hot your head is! Wait a moment."

He placed one arm beneath his neck, lifted his head, turned the pillow, and gently lowered Max back upon the cool, soft linen.

"That's comfortable, isn't it?"

"Yes; so cool and refreshing!"

"So it used to be when you nursed me."

There was a dead silence.

"I say, Maxy."

"Yes."

"I like you now."

"Do you?"

"Yes, ever so. I didn't at first, because you seemed such a coward."

"I suppose I am," sighed Max.

"That you're not; and I'd pitch anybody overboard who said so. You were all strange to us and our ways when you came down; but you're as full of pluck underneath, though you don't show it outside, as any fellow I ever knew."

Max shook his head again.

"But I say you are. Don't contradict, or I'll hit you, and then there'll be a fight. Now, I say, look here! I couldn't help my father borrowing money of your father?"

"No, of course not."

"And you couldn't help your father wanting it back?"

"No, no. Don't talk about it, please."

"Yes, I shall, because I must. Look ye here, Maxy, if we can't help it, and we like one another, why shouldn't we still be the best of friends?"

Max stared at him.

"Would you be friends?" he said at last.

"I should think I will--that is, if you'll be friends with such a poor beggar as I shall be now."

Max gripped his hand, and the two lads were in that att.i.tude when The Mackhai suddenly entered the room.

Max drew in his breath sharply, as if in pain, and lay back gazing at his host, who came forward and shook hands, before seating himself at the bedside.

It was not the first meeting by several, during which Max had been treated with a kindness and deference which showed his host's anxiety to efface the past.

"Come, this is better," he said cheerily. "Why, I should say you could get up now?"

"Yes, sir; that is what I have been telling your son," said Max hastily.