ether garments. Moreover, the
Highland savage, so far from betraying compunction, burst into a roar of
laughter.

"My dear fellow," he cried, "I put him in my bedroom to dry. I couldn't
do more, could I? He has just been in the Serpentine."

"I wish he was there now, with a stone and a string round his neck!"
observed Lieutenant Ogilvie, looking at his boots; but he repented him
of this rash saying, for within a week he had offered Macleod L20 for
the dog. He might have offered twenty dozen of L20, and thrown his
polished boots and his gaiters too into the bargain, and he would have
had the same answer.

Oscar was once more banished into the bedroom; and Mr. Ogilvie sat down,
pretending to take no more notice of his boots. Macleod put some sherry
on the table, and a handful of cigars; his friend asked whether he
could not have a glass of seltzer-water and a cigarette.

"And how do you like the rooms I got for you?"

"There is not much fresh air about them, nor in this narrow street,"
Macleod said, frankly; "but that is no matter for I have been out all
day--all over London."

"I thought the price was as high as you would care to go," Ogilvie said;
"but I forgot you had come fresh up, with your pocket full of money. If
you would like something a trifle more princely, I'll put you up to it."

"And where have I got the money? There are no gold mines in the west of
Mull. It is you who are Fortunatus."

"By Jove, if you knew how hard a fellow is run at Aldershot," Mr.
Ogilvie remarked, confidentially, "you would scarcely believe it. Every
new batch of fellows who come in have to be dined all round; and the
mess bills are simply awful. It's getting worse and worse; and then
these big drinks put one off one's work so."

"You are studying hard, I suppose," Macleod said, quite gravely.

"Pretty well," said he, stretching out his legs, and petting his pretty
mustache with his beautiful white hand. Then he added, suddenly,
surveying the brown-faced and stalwart young fellow before him, "By
Jove, Macleod, I'm glad to see you in London. It's like a breath of
mountain air. Don't I remember the awful mornings we've had
together--the rain and the mist and the creeping through the bogs? I
believe you did your best to kill me. If I hadn't had the constitution
of a horse, I should have been killed."

"I should say your big drinks at Aldershot were more likely to kill you
than going after the deer," said Macleod, "And will you