Three Boys Part 45

"All right, Shonny. Mr Max is going to have one, with a plaid that'll make your eyes ache. Now, Scoody, jump out, and take care of those hawks. Hooray, Max! just in time. There goes the gong."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

HOW KENNETH WAS TOO RASH.

Five days had pa.s.sed--days of imprisonment, for one of the storms prophesied had come over the ocean from the far west, and there had been nothing to do but read, play chess and billiards, write letters, and-- most interesting amus.e.m.e.nt of all to the London visitor--get up to an open window and watch the great dark waves come rolling in, to break with a noise like thunder, and deluge the rock with foam right up to the castle walls. Every now and then a huge roller would dash right into the bath cave, when there would be quite an explosion, and Max listened with a feeling of awe to the escape of the confined air, and wondered whether it would be possible for the place to be undermined, and the whole rock swept away.

"What!" cried Kenneth, when he broached the idea. "Nonsense! It has gone on like that for thousands of years. It's jolly! Next time we bathe, there won't be a sc.r.a.p of weed left. The place will be regularly scoured out, and the bottom covered with soft sh.e.l.ly sand."

The outlook was most dismal. All the glorious colours of sea, sky, and mountain were blotted out, and it was only at intervals, when the drifting rain-clouds lifted a little, that a glimpse could be seen of some island out at sea.

Boom, rush, roar. The wind whistled and yelled as it rattled past the windows, and at times the violence was so great that Max turned an inquiring look at his young host, as if to ask whether there was any danger.

"Like a sail to-day?" asked the latter.

"Sail? with the sea like this!"

"Well, I don't think I should like it," said Kenneth, laughing. "Tavvy says the boat was going adrift out in the bay, but he caught her in time. It's quite rough even there. Here, let's put on waterproofs, and go out."

"Oh no. There: see how it rains."

"Yes, that's pretty tidy," said Kenneth, as the air was literally blackened by the tremendous torrent that fell. "I say, Max, this is the sort of day to see the Mare's Tail. My word! there's some water coming down now."

"It must be terrible."

"Terrible? Nonsense! Here, come into the kitchen and let's see if there's any one there."

Max wondered, but followed his young host to the kitchen, expecting to see no one but the maids, and perhaps Grant, the severe butler; but, when they reached the great stone-floored place, there were Tavish, Long Shon, and Scoodrach, the two latter seated at a table, and the great forester toasting the back of his legs at the fire, and sending up a cloud of steam, an example followed by the three dogs, who sent up smaller clouds of their own.

There was a chorus, or rather a trio of good-mornings, and a series of rappings from dogs' tails, and Max ventured to suggest to the great Highlander that it was very wet.

"Ou ay," he said; "a wee bit shoory, put she'll pe over soon."

"Pretty good spate up in the hills, Tavvy," cried Kenneth.

"Ou ay, Maister Ken; but it's gran' weather for ta fush."

"A' was thenking ye'd like to tak' ta chentleman up ta glen to see ta fa's," said Long Shon.

"Ah, we might do that when the shower's over."

"There'll pe a teal of watter coming down fra Ben Doil."

"Yes, we'll go, Max; and, say, Tav, we never went after the stags Scoody and I saw. Think we could get a shot at them to-day?"

"Weel, she might, Maister Ken, put she'd pe a wee pit wat for ta young chentleman."

"Oh, he wouldn't mind. You'd like to go deerstalking, Max?"

"Yes, I should like to go, but--"

"Oh, we wouldn't go while it rains hard; and you'd only get your feet wet."

"She couldna get over ta mountain to-day," said Long Shon decisively; "and ta glen'll be so full of watter, she couldna stand."

"Oh, nonsense! We could go, Tav?"

"Ou ay, she could go, put there's a teal o' watter apoot."

Just at that moment a weird-looking figure appeared at the door, with his long grey hair and beard streaked together with the rain, and, as he caught Max's eye, he smiled at him, raised one hand, gave a mysterious-looking nod, and beckoned to him to come.

"Here, Maxy, old Donald wants you."

"What for?" said Max, as he shrinkingly met the old man's eye, as he still kept on beckoning, and completely ignored the presence of the rest.

"He wants to give you a tune on the pipes."

Donald beckoned again in a quiet, mysterious manner, and the three dogs looked at him uneasily, Sneeshing uttering a low growl, as if he had unpleasant memories of bagpipe melodies and stones thrown at him because he had been unable to bear the music, and had howled.

"What's the matter, Tonal'?" cried Kenneth, as the old man kept on beckoning.

"She disna want onybody but ta Southron chiel'," said the old man sternly; and he continued to wave Max toward him with his long, claw-like hand.

For a few moments Max felt as if he must go--as if some force which he had not the moral courage to resist was drawing him, and he was about to rise, when the old man gave a fierce stamp with his foot.

"You'll be obliged to go, Maxy," said Kenneth. "Have a concert all to yourself for three or four hours. It will be rather windy, but the rain doesn't come in on one side of the old tower room."

"No, no, not to-day!" cried Max hastily.

"Oh, you'll have to go," said Kenneth, as the old man kept on waving his hand imperiously. "Won't he, Scood?"

"Ou ay, she'll have to go and hear ta pipes."

As if angered at the invitation not being accepted, old Donald took a couple of strides forward into the kitchen.

This was too much for Sneeshing, who leaped up on to his four short legs, barked furiously, and then, overcome by recollections of the last air he had heard, he threw up his head so as to straighten his throat, and gave forth the most miserable howl a dog could utter.

Old Donald shouted something in Gaelic, and made for the dog, which began to bark and snap at him, and this roused Dirk and Bruce to take part with him in baying at the old piper, who stopped short, as if startled at the array of teeth.

The noise was so great that Grant the butler came hurrying in.

"Turn those dogs oot!" he cried. "You, Tonal', what do you want?"

"Ta Southron chiel'," said the old man mysteriously.

"She lo'es ta pipes, and she'll play him ta Mackhai's Mairch."