be expert in handling a boat. And it needed all
their skill to get anything out of these repeated tacks with this old
craft, that had a sneaking sort of fashion of falling away to leeward.
However, they had the constant excitement of putting about; and the day
was fine; and they were greatly refreshed after their arduous pastimes
by that banquet of scones and milk. Nor did they know that this was to
be the last day of their careless boyish idleness; that never again
would the great chieftain, heedless of what the morrow might bring
forth, hold these high frolics in the halls of Eilean-na-Rona.

Patience and perseverance will beat even contrary winds; and at last,
after one long tack stretching almost to the other side of Loch Scrone,
they put about and managed to make the entrance to the harbour, just
weathering the rocks that had nearly destroyed them on their setting
out. But here another difficulty waited them. Under the shelter of
the low-lying hills, the harbour was in a dead calm. No sooner had
they passed the rocks than they found themselves on water as smooth as
glass, and there were no oars in the boat. For this oversight Rob
MacNicol was not responsible; the fact being that oars were valuable in
Erisaig, and not easily to be borrowed, whereas this old boat was at
anybody's disposal. There was nothing for it but to sit and wait for a
puff of wind.

Suddenly they heard a sound--the distant throbbing of the _Glenara's_
paddles. Rob grew anxious. This old boat was right in the fairway of
the steamer; and the question was whether, in coming round the point,
she would see them in time to slow.

'I wish we were out of here,' said he.

As a last resource, he threw the tiller into the boat, took up the
helm, and tried to use this as a sort of paddle. But this was scarcely
of any avail; and they could hear, though they could not see, that the
steamer was almost at the point.

The next moment she appeared; and it seemed to them in their fright
that she was almost upon them--towering away over them with her
gigantic bulk. They heard the scream of the steam-whistle, and the
sharp 'ping! ping!' of the indicator, as the captain tried to have the
engines reversed.

It was too late. The way on the steamer carried her on, even when her
paddles were stopped; and the next second her bows had gone clean into
the old tarred boat, cutting her almost in two and heeling her over.

She sank at once. Then the passe