iet, Scoody; there is no young Chief now," said Kenneth sadly.

"Hey, but ta Mackhai will never tie!" yelled Scoodrach.

"Do you mean to say that you hindered Mr Kenneth here from taking the
boat for a sail?" cried Max angrily.

"My orders air that naething is to go off the place," said the bailiff
sturdily.

"Then you stopped him from taking his own boat?"

"No, sir," cried the bailiff; "it's not his boat, but Mr Blande's, of
Lincoln's Inn, London."

"It is not. The boat and everything here is mine," cried Max fiercely.
"Take the boat, Ken, and if this insolent scoundrel dares to interfere,
knock him down."

"Hurray!" yelled Scoodrach, breaking loose and throwing his bonnet in
the air. "Weel done, Maister Max! But na, na; it's no' her poat, and
naething here is hers, ye ken."

"Come on, Ken."

"Well, sir, I shall report all this to--"

"Ye ill-faured loon, stan' awa'," yelled Scoodrach, as Max laid his hand
on Kenneth's shoulder; and they went down together to the boat, while
the bailiff and his man walked muttering back to the house.

"Jump in, Scoodrach, and cast her loose," cried Max; but Kenneth's hand
closed tightly on his wrist.

"No, Max," he said slowly and sadly. "Let's get back into the house. I
don't feel as if I could go for a sail to-day."

"Oh, Ken!" whispered Max; "and I said everything was mine. I did not
mean it. I couldn't take a thing."

"Let's go indoors."

"But if by law the boat is mine, it's yours again now. Come, take me
for one more ride."

"No, no! I can't go now."

There was a dead silence on the old grey terrace for a few minutes. The
gulls wailed as they swept here and there over the glistening sea, and
the golden-red and brown weed washed to and fro among the rocks.

"I ask you to go, Ken," said Max gently. "Don't refuse me this. Scood,
my things are packed; fetch them down. Kenneth Mackhai, I shall go
to-day; take me to meet the steamer, just as you came to meet me six
weeks ago."

Ken looked at him half wonderingly.

"Do you mean it?" he said hoarsely.

"Yes. You will?"

"Yes."

An hour had not passed before the white-sailed boat was softly bending
over to the breeze, and almost in silence the three lads sat gazing
before them, heedless of the glorious panorama of mountain, fiord, and
fall that seemed to be gliding by, till far away in the distance they
could see the red funnel of David Macbrayne's swift steamer pouring
forth its trailing clo