is gun. "You can't tell whether you are hitting the bird or not. There!
Three men fired at that bird--the other two were not touched."

The fusillade lasted for about eight or ten minutes; and then it was
discovered that though certainly two or three hundred pheasants had got
up at this corner, only twenty-two and a half brace were killed--to five
guns.

"Well," said the major, taking off his cap and wiping his forehead,
"that was a bit of a scrimmage!"

"Perhaps," said Macleod, who had been watching with some amusement his
friend's fierce zeal; "but it was not shooting. I defy you to say how
many birds you shot. Or I will do this with you--I will bet you a
sovereign that if you ask each man to tell you how many birds he has
shot during the day, and add them all up, the total will be twice the
number of birds the keepers will take home. But I am glad you seem to
enjoy it, Stuart."

"To tell you the truth, Macleod," said the other, "I think I have had
enough of it. I don't want to make a fuss; but I fancy I don't quite see
clearly with this eye. It may be some slight inflammation; but I think I
will go back to the house, and see if there's any surgeon in the
neighborhood."

"There you are right; and I will go back with you," Macleod said,
promptly.

When their host heard of this, he was for breaking up the party; but
Major Stuart warmly remonstrated; and so one of the men was sent with
the two friends to show them the way back to the house. When the surgeon
came he examined the wound, and pronounced it to be slight enough in
itself, but possibly dangerous when so near so sensitive an organ as the
eye. He advised the major, if any symptoms of inflammation declared
themselves, to go at once to a skillful oculist in London, and not to
leave for the North until he was quite assured.

"That sounds rather well, Macleod," said he, ruefully.

"Oh, if you must remain in London--though I hope not--I will stay with
you," Macleod said. It was a great sacrifice, his remaining in London,
instead of going at once back to Castle Dare; but what will not one do
for one's friend?

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN INTERVIEW.

On the eventful morning on which Major Stuart was to be presented to the
chosen bride of Macleod of Dare, the simple-hearted
soldier--notwithstanding that he had a shade over one eye, made himself
exceedingly smart. He would show the young lady that Macleod's friends
in the North were not barbarians. The major