Three Boys Part 20

"Funny! Why, it's screaming. Why, half the people go bare-legged here.

All the children do."

"But the things p.r.i.c.k one's feet so, and we might meet with poisonous snakes."

"Then let's put them on," said Kenneth, with mock seriousness. "I did not think about the poisonous snakes."

He set the example of taking possession of a stone, and, slipping on his check worsted socks and low shoes in a few moments, to jump up again and stand looking down at Max, who made quite a business of the matter.

Kenneth gave each foot a kick and a stamp to get rid of the sand. Max proceeded very deliberately to wipe away the sand and sc.r.a.ps of heather from between his toes with one clean pocket-handkerchief, and to polish them with another.

"Oh, they look beautiful and white now!" said Kenneth, with mock seriousness, as he drew his dirk and stropped it on his hand. "Like to trim your toe-nails and cut your corns?"

"No, thank you," said Max innocently. "I won't keep you waiting to-day."

"Oh, I don't mind," said Kenneth politely.

"There, you are laughing at me again," cried Max reproachfully.

"Well, who's to help it if you will be such a mollycoddle! Slip on your socks and shoes now. I want you to catch that salmon."

"Ah yes, I should like to catch a salmon!" said Max, hastily pulling on his socks and then his too tight shoes. "There, I'm ready now."

Half a mile farther they struck the side of a sea loch, and, after following its sh.o.r.e for a short distance, Kenneth plunged into the heath and began to climb a steep, rugged slope, up which Max toiled, till on the top he paused, breathless and full of wonder at the beauty of the scene. The slope they had climbed was the back-bone of a b.u.t.tress of the hill which flanked the loch, the said b.u.t.tress running out and forming a promontory.

"There, we have cut off quite half a mile by coming up here."

"How beautiful!" said Max involuntarily, as he gazed at the long stretch of miles of blue water which ran right in among the mountainous hills.

"Yes, it's all right," cried Kenneth. "There they are half way down to the river."

"Then we are not going to fish in the loch?"

"No, no; we're going to hit the river yonder, a mile from where it enters the sea, and work on up toward the fresh-water loch."

"Where is the river, then?"

"You can't see it. Runs down yonder among the trees and rocks. You can just see where it goes into the loch," continued Kenneth, pointing.

"Hillo! ahoy!"

"Ahoy!" came back from the distance; and Scood and the tall forester seated themselves on a great block of granite and awaited their coming.

Tavish smiled with his eyes, which seemed to have the same laughing, pleasant look in them seen in those of a friendly setter, the effect being that Max felt drawn toward the great Highlander, and walked on by his side, while Kenneth took the two long rods from Scoodrach, giving him the basket to carry; and, as they dropped behind, with Kenneth talking earnestly to the young gillie in a low tone, the latter suddenly made a curious explosive noise, like a laugh chopped right in two before it quite escaped from a mouth.

Kenneth was looking as solemn as Scoodrach as Max turned sharply round, his sensitive nature suggesting at once that he was being laughed at.

Tavish evidently thought that there was something humorous on the way, for he gave Max a poke with his elbow, and uttered the one word,--

"Cames!"

A quarter of an hour's rough walking brought them to a steep descent among pines and birches, directly they had pa.s.sed which Max uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, for the scene which opened out before him seemed a wonder of beauty.

Just in front the ground sloped down amidst piled-up, rugged ma.s.ses of rock to a swiftly-flowing river, whose waters were perfectly black in every deep basin and pool, and one rich, deep, creamy foam wherever it raced and tumbled, and made hundreds of miniature falls among the great boulders and stones which dotted the stream. Right and left he could gaze along a deep winding ravine, while in front, across the river, there was a narrow band of exquisite green, dotted with pale purple gentian and fringed with ragwort, and beyond, the mountain rose up steeply, looking almost perpendicular, but broken by rifts and crevices and shelves, among which the spiring larch and pine towered up, showing their contrast of greens, and the lovely pensile birches drooped down wondrous veils of leaf and lacing delicate twig, as if to hide their silvery, moss-decked stems.

"Like it?" cried Kenneth.

"Like it!" cried Max enthusiastically. "It is lovely! I didn't think there could be anything so grand."

"Ferry coot. She knows what is ferry coot," said Tavish, nodding his head approvingly, as he set down a basket.

"Glad you're satisfied!" cried Kenneth; "but we've come to fish."

"To fish?"

"Yes, of course."

"Are there salmon here, then?"

"Yes; there's one in every pool, I'll bet; and I daresay there's one where the little fall comes down."

"What! There?" cried Max, as he looked up and up, till about two thousand feet above them a thread of glancing silver seemed to join other threads of glancing silver, like veins of burnished metal, to come gliding down, now lost to sight among the verdure of the mountain, now coming into view again, till they joined in one rapid rivulet, which had cut for itself a channel deep in the mountain side, and finally dashed out from beneath the shade of the overhanging birches, to plunge with a dull roar into the river nearly opposite where they stood.

"Now then," said Kenneth, "I'm supposing that you have never tried to catch a salmon."

"Puir laddie!" muttered the great forester; "a'most a man, and never caught a fush! Hey! where are ye gaun wi' that basket, Scood?"

"Never you mind, Tavvy. I sent him," said Kenneth sharply, as Scoodrach plunged in among the rocks and bushes behind them, and disappeared.

"I think you had better fish," said Max shrinkingly, "I have never tried."

"Then you are going to try now. Take this rod. Hold it in both hands, so. There, you see there is a grand salmon fly on."

"Yes, I see."

"Well, now, do just as I do. There's not much line out. Give it a wave like this, just as if you were making a figure eight in the air, and then try to let your fly fall gently just there."

Max had taken the rod, and stood watching Kenneth, who had taken the other, and, giving it a wave, he made the fly fall lightly on the short gra.s.s beside the river.

"Is this a salmon leap, then?" asked Max innocently.

"No; but there's one higher up. Why?"

"Because I thought the salmon must leap out of the river on to the gra.s.s to take the fly."

"Hoo--hoo--hoo! Hoogle--hoogle--hoogle! I beg your pairdon!"

Tavish had burst out into a kind of roar, as near to the above as English letters will sound. Perhaps he was laughing in Gaelic, with a cross of Scandinavian; but, whatever it was, he seemed heartily ashamed of his rudeness, and looked as solemn as a judge.

"Don't laugh, Tavvy," cried Kenneth, to conceal his own mirth. "Why, can't you see that I was making you practise on the gra.s.s before letting you throw in the water."

"She mustn't splash the watter," said Tavish sententiously.