"Not you," said Scood, stepping the mast, Kenneth helping him with the
stays, and to hoist a couple of sails. Then the rudder was hooked on,
and, as the rapid current bore them out beyond the point, the wind
filled the sails, the boat careened over, the water rattled beneath her
bows, and, as the little vessel seemed to stand still, the beautiful
panorama of rocky, tree-adorned shore glided by, Sneeshing's furious
barking growing more distant, and dying right away.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE GUEST FROM LONDON.

It was well on in the afternoon when Scoodrach, who was lying upon his
chest with his chin resting on the boat's gunwale, suddenly exclaimed,--

"There she is."

The sun was shining down hotly, there was not a breath of air, and
Kenneth, who seemed as languid as the drooping sails, slowly turned his
head round to look at a cloud of smoke which appeared to be coming round
a distant point of land.

Hours had passed since they sailed away from Dunroe, and for a time they
had had a favourable wind; then it had drooped suddenly, leaving the sea
like glass, and the boat rising and falling softly upon the swell.
There had been nothing to shoot but gulls, which, knowing they were
safe, had come floating softly round, looking at them with inquiring
eyes, and then glided away. They had gazed down through the water at
the waving tangle, and watched the shoals of glistening young fish.
They had whistled for wind, but none had come, and then, as they lay in
the boat at the mercy of the swift tide, the hot hours of the noontide
had glided by, even as the current which bore them along the shore,
helpless unless they had liked to row, and that they had not liked to do
upon such a glowing day.

"I don't believe that's she," said Kenneth lazily. "That's the cargo
boat. Grenadier must have gone by while you were asleep."

"While she wass what?" cried Scood sharply. "Haven't been to sleep."

"Yes, you have. You snored till the boat wobbled."

"She didn't. She never does snore. It wass you."

"All right. Dessay it was," said Kenneth, yawning. "Oh, I say, Scood,
I'm getting so hungry, and we can't get back."

"Yes, we can. We shall have to row."

"I'm not going to row all those miles against tide, I can tell you."

"Very well. We shall have to wait."

"I can't wait. I want my dinner."

"It is the Grenadier!" cried Scood, after a long look. "I can see her
red funnel."

"You can't at this distance."