n Basil in a
few days, and they will continue their tour together as if nothing
had happened to interrupt it. Of course I haven't told Mr. Somerled
about Basil proposing, so when he suggested my going for a short
run with the Gray Dragon in memory of old times, he invited Basil
too. But that was before the Vannecks had looked out trains, and
decided that they couldn't get off till to-morrow. There wouldn't
be comfortable room for such a crowd even in the Gray Dragon.
Anyhow, Basil refused, saying he had writing to do--and I went with
Mr. Somerled and the cousins to the Pass of Glencoe--you know,
don't you, 'The Glen o' Weeping'?

It is only an afternoon excursion from Ballachulish, so I was sure
you wouldn't object to my deciding for myself. As for Ballachulish,
it is one of the most charming little places I've seen yet in
Scotland, although coming here as we did from Loch Maree it would
need to be beautiful indeed, not to be what you call in the theatre
an 'anticlimax.' Loch Maree lies all secret and hidden among deer
forests. Along the narrow, twisting road as you go, you hear the
rushing sound of many rivers. Nobody had ever even dreamed of
motor-cars when that road was made, so you have to travel slowly
and manoeuvre whenever you meet anything if you don't want to be
killed. Even as it was, we got mixed up with a big automobile
loaded with fish-baskets. Our flywheel was on the ground, running
helplessly round and round, screaming horribly, while both
chauffeurs abused each other. Such a funny accident, and we had
another, going up a very steep hill. We'd so little petrol that it
ran back, as your blood does if you hold up your hand, and the
motor would do nothing but groan till we found out what was the
matter. Altogether it was quite an adventure going on such a road
with such a weak, elderly car like Blunderbore: but it was worth it
all, for Loch Maree is the beautiful birthplace of baby rainbows.
As we came near, travelling a mere white seam in a carpet of purple
heather stitched together with silver streams, I saw any quantity
of unfinished rainbows, just waiting to be matched on to each other
like bits of a puzzle. They hovered over rivulets, dancing in the
sunlight; or stained with colour the rocks thickly silvered with a
brocade of