Three Boys Part 73

Once more the coins fell jingling down, and, flinching away, shrinking with shame, sorrow, and indignation, Max returned into the house, feeling that he could not go boating now, and wis.h.i.+ng that the next day had come, and he were on the road back to London.

But, just as he reached the hall, he heard the voice of the man in charge raised loudly, and, looking out, he saw the second man running along the natural rock terrace, below which lay the bathing cavern and the rugged platform from which they would take boat.

The next moment Scoodrach's voice rose in shrill and angry tones, and he could see that Kenneth was holding him back.

Max ran down with his pulses throbbing, for he felt that something was very wrong.

"I'll have the law of him," the bailiff was saying, as Max ran up. "He struck me, and drew his knife on me. I'll have him locked up before he knows where he is."

"Let her go, let her go, Maister Ken!" yelled Scoodrach, struggling furiously. "She'll hae her bluid! Let her go, and she'll slit her weam!"

"Be quiet, Scood," said Kenneth, holding the young gillie fast, but speaking in a low, despondent tone. "Here, Max, take the knife away from this mad fool."

"Nay, nay," cried Scoodrach; "if the Southron comes she'll hae her bluid too."

Instinctively grasping what was the matter, and with his cheeks flushed with indignation, Max dashed at Scoodrach, seized his wrist, and twisted the knife out of his hand.

"What does this mean?" he cried, turning angrily upon the bailiff.

"Mean, sir? My orders are to let nothing go off the premises, and this young gentleman comes doon wi' this young Hieland wild cat, and tries to get oot the boat."

"Well?"

"Well, sir, I said it was not to go, and then this cat-a-mountain struck me."

"She insulted ta young Chief," panted Scoodrach.

"Be quiet, Scoody; there is no young Chief now," said Kenneth sadly.

"Hey, but ta Mackhai will never tie!" yelled Scoodrach.

"Do you mean to say that you hindered Mr Kenneth here from taking the boat for a sail?" cried Max angrily.

"My orders air that naething is to go off the place," said the bailiff st.u.r.dily.

"Then you stopped him from taking his own boat?"

"No, sir," cried the bailiff; "it's not his boat, but Mr Blande's, of Lincoln's Inn, London."

"It is not. The boat and everything here is mine," cried Max fiercely.

"Take the boat, Ken, and if this insolent scoundrel dares to interfere, knock him down."

"Hurray!" yelled Scoodrach, breaking loose and throwing his bonnet in the air. "Weel done, Maister Max! But na, na; it's no' her poat, and naething here is hers, ye ken."

"Come on, Ken."

"Well, sir, I shall report all this to--"

"Ye ill-faured loon, stan' awa'," yelled Scoodrach, as Max laid his hand on Kenneth's shoulder; and they went down together to the boat, while the bailiff and his man walked muttering back to the house.

"Jump in, Scoodrach, and cast her loose," cried Max; but Kenneth's hand closed tightly on his wrist.

"No, Max," he said slowly and sadly. "Let's get back into the house. I don't feel as if I could go for a sail to-day."

"Oh, Ken!" whispered Max; "and I said everything was mine. I did not mean it. I couldn't take a thing."

"Let's go indoors."

"But if by law the boat is mine, it's yours again now. Come, take me for one more ride."

"No, no! I can't go now."

There was a dead silence on the old grey terrace for a few minutes. The gulls wailed as they swept here and there over the glistening sea, and the golden-red and brown weed washed to and fro among the rocks.

"I ask you to go, Ken," said Max gently. "Don't refuse me this. Scood, my things are packed; fetch them down. Kenneth Mackhai, I shall go to-day; take me to meet the steamer, just as you came to meet me six weeks ago."

Ken looked at him half wonderingly.

"Do you mean it?" he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Yes. You will?"

"Yes."

An hour had not pa.s.sed before the white-sailed boat was softly bending over to the breeze, and almost in silence the three lads sat gazing before them, heedless of the glorious panorama of mountain, fiord, and fall that seemed to be gliding by, till far away in the distance they could see the red funnel of David Macbrayne's swift steamer pouring forth its trailing clouds of black smoke, which seemed to reach for miles.

Then by degrees the steamer grew plainer, the white water could be seen foaming behind the beating paddles, and the figures of the pa.s.sengers on deck. Then the faces grew clearer, and there was a scurry by the gangway, and almost directly after the paddles ceased churning up the clear water, the sail dropped down. Scoodrach caught the rope that was thrown; the portmanteaus, gun-case, and rods were pa.s.sed up, and, not trusting himself to speak, Max grasped Scoodrach's hand, pressing a couple of sovereigns therein, seized Kenneth's for a moment, and then leaped on board.

The rope was cast off; there was a loud ting from the captain's bell, the paddles revolved, the boat glided astern, with Kenneth sitting despondently on one of the thwarts, and some one at Max's elbow said to another hard by,--

"See that red-headed Scotch boy?"

"Yes; but did you see what he did?"

"Yes; threw something into the sea."

"Did you see what it was?"

"No."

"A couple of sovereigns."

"No!"

"Yes. I saw them go right down through the clear water."

"Then he must be mad."

"Not mad," said Max to himself; "but as full of pride as of love for The Mackhai."