l the same Mr. Ogilvie was in some measure a friend of hers. He
knew her--he had spoken to her--no doubt when he returned to the South
he would see her one day or another, and he would surely speak of the
visit he had paid to Castle Dare. Macleod set about making that visit as
pleasant as might be, and the weather aided him. The fair heavens shone
over the windy blue seas; and the green island of Ulva lay basking in
the sunlight, and as the old _Umpire_, with her heavy bows parting the
rushing waves, carried them out to the west, they could see the black
skarts standing on the rocks of Gometra, and clouds of puffins wheeling
round the dark and lonely pillars of Staffa; while away in the north, as
they got clear of Treshanish Point, the mountains of Rum and of Skye
appeared a pale and spectral blue, like ghostly shadows at the horizon.
And there was no end to the sports and pastimes that occupied day after
day. On their first expedition up the lonely corries of Ben-an-Sloich
young Ogilvie brought down a royal hart--though his hand trembled for
ten minutes after he pulled the trigger. They shot wild duck in Loch
Scridain, and seals in Loch-na-Keal, and rock-pigeons along the face of
the honey-combed cliffs of Gribun. And what was this new form of sport?
They were one day being pulled in the gig up a shallow loch in the hope
of finding a brood or two of young mergansers, when Macleod, who was
seated up at the bow, suddenly called to the man to stop. He beckoned to
Ogilvie, who went forward and saw, quietly moving over the sea-weed, a
hideously ugly fish with the flat head and sinister eyes of a snake.
Macleod picked up the boat-hook, steadied himself in the boat, and then
drove the iron spike down.

"I have him," he said. "That is the snake of the sea--I hate him as I
hate a serpent."

He hoisted out of the water the dead dog-fish, which was about four feet
long, and then shook it back.

"Here, Ogilvie," said he, "take the boat-hook. There are plenty about
here. Make yourself St. Patrick exterminating snakes."

Ogilvie tried the dog-fish spearing with more or less success; but it
was the means of procuring for him a bitter disappointment. As they went
quietly over the sea-weed--the keel of the boat hissing through it and
occasionally grating on the sand--they perceived that the water was
getting a bit deeper, and it was almost impossible to strike the
boat-hook straight. At this moment, Ogilvie, happening to cast a glan