m our
minds. Myra was a real Highlander of the West. She lived for its
mountains and lochs, its rivers and burns, its magnificent coast and
its fascinating animal life. She knew every little creek and inlet,
every rock and shallow, every reef and current from Fort William to
the Gair Loch. I have even heard it said that when she was twelve she
could draw an accurate outline of Benbecula and North Uist, a feat
that would be a great deal beyond the vast majority of grown-ups
living on those islands themselves. As we turned to cross the head of
Loch Hourn, Myra pointed out Glasnabinnie, nestling like a lump of
grey lichen at the foot of the Croulin Burn. Anchored off the point
was a small steam yacht, either a converted drifter or built on
drifter lines.

"Our friend has visitors," said Myra, "and he's not there to receive
them. How very rude! That yacht is often there. She only makes about
eight knots as a rule, although she gives you the impression she could
do more. You see, she's been built for strength and comfort more than
for looks. She calls at Glasnabinnie in the afternoons sometimes, and
is there after dark, and sails off before six." (Myra was always out
of doors before six in the morning, whatever the weather.) "From which
I gather," she continued, "that the owner lives some distance away and
sleeps on board. She can't be continuously cruising, or she would make
a longer stay sometimes."

"You seem to know the ways of yacht-owners, dear," I said. "Hullo!
what is that hut on the cliff above the falls? That's new, surely."

"Oh! that beastly thing," said Myra in disgust. "That's his, too. A
smoking-room and study, I believe. He had it built there because he
has an uninterrupted view that sweeps the sea."

"Why 'beastly thing'?" I asked. "It's too far away to worry you,
though it isn't exactly pretty, and I know you hate to see anything in
the shape of a new building going up."

"Oh! it annoys me," she answered airily, "and somehow it gets on
daddy's nerves. You see, it has a funny sort of window which goes all
round the top of the hut. This is evidently divided into several small
windows, because they swing about in the wind, and when the sun shines
on them they catch the eye even at our distance. And, as I say, they
get on daddy's nerves, which have not been too good the last week or
two."

"Never mind," I consoled her; "he'll be all right when his friends
come up for the Twelfth. I think the doctors are