, and it was the business of one aspiring to be a
fisherman to take things as they came.

'Come, set to work and bale out the boat, you bare-shanks lot! How
d'ye think she can sail with the half of Loch Scrone inside her?'

Thus admonished, the younger brothers were soon among the stone ballast
baling out the surging water with such rude utensils as they could
find. But the squall was of no great duration. The wind moderated in
force; then it woke up again, and brought a smart shower of rain
across; then, as if by magic, the heavens suddenly cleared, a burst of
hot sunlight fell around them, the sea grew intensely blue, the far
hills on the other side of Loch Scrone began to shine green in the
yellow light, and all that was left to tell of the squall that had very
nearly put an end to the great chieftain and all his clan was a quickly
running sea, now all sparkling in diamonds.

The danger being thus over, Rob once more delivered the tiller into the
charge of his brother Nicol, and went forward to his post of
observation at the bow. About the only bit of the imaginative voyage
on which he had started that had a solid basis in fact was the
existence of an old castle--or rather the ruins of what had once been a
castle--on the island called Eilean-na-Rona; and now that they were
racing down Loch Scrone, that small island was drawing nearer, and
already they could make out the dark tower and ivied walls of the
ancient keep. Far darker than the tower itself were the legends
connected with this stronghold of former times; but for these the
brothers MacNicol, who had seized on the place as their own, cared
little. It is true, they had some dread of the dungeon, and none of
them would have liked to visit Eilean-na-Rona at night; but in the
daytime the old ruins formed an excellent retreat, where they could
play such high jinks or hold such courtly tournaments as they chose.

They ran the boat into a little creek of the uninhabited island,
driving her right up on the beach for safety's sake, there being no
anchor. Then--Neil carrying a small basket the while and Duncan a coil
of rope--they passed through a wood of young larches and spruce, the
air smelling strongly of bracken and meadow-sweet after the rain; and
finally they reached the rocky eminence on which stood the ruins.
There was no way up, for tourists did not come that way, and the owner
of the island, who was a farmer on the mainland, had but little care
for