ut you had better
lower down the gun, and then I can shoot Scoody decently, when Sneeshing
and the young hawks are done!"

"Oh, pray be serious!"

"I am. It's a serious position. We mustn't trust the rope again--eh,
Scoody?"

"Na! Oh, what a ding she gave her airm!"

"Bother your arm!" cried Kenneth. "Here, Max, what's to be done?"

"I'll run back and tell them at Dunroe."

"Ah, to be sure, that's the way! but I didn't know you could run across
the loch."

Max's jaw dropped, and he gave his companions a helpless stare.

"I forgot the loch," he said. "What shall I do? Where's the nearest
house?"

"Across the loch."

"Are there none this side?"

"There's a keeper's lodge ten miles away, on the other side of the
mountain."

"I'll run all the way there!" cried Max eagerly. "Tell me the way."

"Well, you go right north, straight over the mountain, and whenever you
come to a bog, you stick in it. Then you lose your way every now and
then, and get benighted, and there you are."

"You're laughing at me again," cried Max in agony; "and I want to help
you."

"Well, I want you to help us, old chap, for we're in a regular mess, and
perhaps the hawks'll come and pick our eyes out to feed the young ones."

"There, now, you're laughing at me again!" cried Max. "I can't help
being so ignorant of your ways."

"Of course you can't, Maxy. Well, look here, old chap, you can't get
over the mountain without some one to show you the way."

"Na; she'd lose hersel'," cried Scoodrach. "Oh, what a ding she did
give--"

"Bother your old airm, Scoody! do be quiet. Look here, Max: now,
seriously, unless a yacht comes by, there's no chance of help, and just
because we want a yacht to come by, there won't be one for a week."

"Then what shall I do?"

"Well, there's only one thing you can do."

"Yes? quick, tell me!"

"Go down to the boat and hoist the sail, and run back to Dunroe."

"But I couldn't manage her."

"All right, then. Let's all set to work and make our wills before we're
starved to death. No, I tell you what: you've got the gun; you'll have
to go shooting, and drop the birds over to us. You're a good shot,
aren't you?"

Max was silent.

"Well, why don't you speak? Look here, take the gun and shoot a hare.
You'll find one somewhere. Got any matches?"

"Yes, I have a little silver box of wax-lights."

"That's your sort! Then you can light a fire of heath and peat, and
cook it, and dr