light and flippant, though picturesque, as he went. Macfarlane was
destined to become a shining light of the established Church of
Scotland, and therefore took life very seriously,--Duprez was the spoilt
only child of an eminent French banker, and had very little to do but
enjoy himself, and that he did most thoroughly, without any calculation
or care for the future. On all points of taste and opinion they differed
widely; but there was no doubt about their both being good-hearted
fellows, without any affectation of abnormal vice or virtue.

"So you did not climb Jedke after all!" remarked Errington laughingly,
as they seated themselves at the breakfast table.

"My friend, what would you!" cried Duprez. "I have not said that I will
climb it; no! I never say that I will do anything, because I'm not sure
of myself. How can I be? It is that _cher enfant_, Lorimer, that said
such brave words! See! . . . we arrive; we behold the shore--all black,
great, vast! . . . rocks like needles, and, higher than all, this most
fierce Jedke--bah! what a name!--straight as the spire of a cathedral.
One must be a fly to crawl up it, and we, we are not flies--_ma foi_!
no! Lorimer, he laugh, he yawn--so! He say, 'not for me to-day; I very
much thank you!' And then, we watch the sun. Ah! that was grand,
glorious, beautiful!" And Duprez kissed the tips of his fingers in
ecstacy.

"What did _you_ think about it, Sandy?" asked Sir Philip.

"I didna think much," responded Macfarlane, shortly. "It's no sae grand
a sight as a sunset in Skye. And it's an uncanny business to see the sun
losin' a' his poonctooality, and remainin' stock still, as it were, when
it's his plain duty to set below the horizon. Mysel', I think it's been
fair over-rated. It's unnatural an' oot o' the common, say what ye
like."

"Of course it is," agreed Lorimer, who just then sauntered in from his
cabin. "Nature _is_ most unnatural. I always thought so. Tea for me,
Phil, please; coffee wakes me up too suddenly. I say, what's the
programme to-day?"

"Fishing in the Alten," answered Errington promptly.

"That suits me perfectly," said Lorimer, as he leisurely sipped his tea.
"I'm an excellent fisher. I hold the line and generally forget to bait
it. Then,--while it trails harmlessly in the water, I doze; thus both
the fish and I are happy."

"And this evening," went on Errington, "we must return the minister's
call. He's been to the yacht twice. We're bound to go out