this settlement, and he had certainly never seen any one with whom
this would be so delightful as with Miss Boncassen. But that the two
ladies should be at the same house was unfortunate.

He and Gerald reached Crummie-Toddie late on the evening of August
11th, and found Reginald Dobbes alone. That was on Wednesday.
Popplecourt and Nidderdale ought to have made their appearance on
that morning, but had telegraphed to say that they would be detained
two days on their route. Tregear, whom hitherto Dobbes had never
seen, had left his arrival uncertain. This carelessness on such
matters was very offensive to Mr. Dobbes, who loved discipline and
exactitude. He ought to have received the two young men with open
arms because they were punctual; but he had been somewhat angered by
what he considered the extreme youth of Lord Gerald. Boys who could
not shoot were, he thought, putting themselves forward before their
time. And Silverbridge himself was by no means a first-rate shot.
Such a one as Silverbridge had to be endured because from his
position and wealth he could facilitate such arrangements as these.
It was much to have to do with a man who would not complain if an
extra fifty pounds were wanted. But he ought to have understood that
he was bound in honour to bring down competent friends. Of Tregear's
shooting Dobbes had been able to learn nothing. Lord Gerald was a lad
from the Universities; and Dobbes hated University lads. Popplecourt
and Nidderdale were known to be efficient. They were men who could
work hard and do their part of the required slaughter. Dobbes proudly
knew that he could make up for some deficiency by his own prowess;
but he could not struggle against three bad guns. What was the use
of so perfecting Crummie-Toddie as to make it the best bit of ground
for grouse and deer in Scotland, if the men who came there failed
by their own incapacity to bring up the grand total of killed to a
figure which would render Dobbes and Crummie-Toddie famous throughout
the whole shooting world? He had been hard at work on other matters.
Dogs had gone amiss,--or guns, and he had been made angry by the
champagne which Popplecourt caused to be sent down. He knew what
champagne meant. Whisky-and-water, and not much of it, was the liquor
which Reginald Dobbes loved in the mountains.

"Don't you call this a very ugly country?" Silverbridge asked as soon
as he arrived. Now it is the case that the traveller who travels
into Arg