not intrust so important a message to any
one else: he would himself go out to meet the _Pioneer_.

"The sky is becoming very dark," Mr. White said; "we had better go back,
Gerty."

But before they had gone far the first heavy drops were beginning to
fall, and they were glad to run for refuge to some great gray boulders
which lay in the moist moorland at the foot of the mountain-slopes. In
the lee of these rocks they were in comparative safety; and they waited
patiently until the gale of wind and rain should pass over. And what
were these strange objects that appeared in the gray mists far along the
valley? She touched her father's arm--she did not speak; it was her
first sight of a herd of red-deer; and as the deer had doubtless been
startled by a shepherd or his dog, they were making across the glen at a
good speed. First came the hinds, running almost in Indian file, and
then, with a longer stride, came one or two stags, their antlered heads
high in the air, as though they were listening for sounds behind them
and sniffing the wind in front of them at the same time. But so far away
were they that they were only blurred objects passing through the
rain-mists; they passed across like swift ghosts; there was no sound
heard at all. And then the rain ceased, and the air grew warm around
them. They came out from the shadow of the rock--behold! a blaze of hot
sun on the moist moors, with a sudden odor of bracken, and young
heather, and sweet-gale all about them. And the sandy road quickly grew
dry again; and the heavens opened; and there was a flood of sunlight
falling on that rushing and breezy Atlantic. They walked back to Dare.

"Tuesday, then, shall we say, pappy?" she remarked, just before
entering.

"Very well."

"And we are going to see some friends in Aberdeen."

"Very well."

After this Miss White became a great deal more cheerful; and she was
very complaisant to them all at luncheon. And quite by accident she
asked Macleod, who had returned by this time, whether they talked Scotch
in Aberdeen.

"Because, you know," said she, "one should always be learning on one's
travels; and many a time I have heard people disputing about the
pronunciation of the Scotch; and one ought to be able to read Burns with
a proper accent. Now, you have no Scotch at all here; you don't say 'my
dawtie,' and 'ben the hoose,' and ''twixt the gloaming and the mirk.'"

"Oh no," said he, "we have none of the Scotch at all, except a