late companion's fate.

"That's Mrs Long Shon, Max," whispered Kenneth hastily. "You go on
along this path; keep close to the water, and I'll catch up to you
directly."

"You will not be long?" said Max, with a helpless look.

"Long! no. Catch you directly. Go on. I just want to speak to the old
woman."

Max went on, keeping, as advised, close to the waters of the little bay,
till he could go no farther, for a rapid burn came down from the hills
and emptied itself there into the sea.

"Hillo! ahoy!" came a voice from behind him, just as he was gazing
helplessly about, and wondering whether, if he attempted to ford the
burn, there would be any dangerous quicksands.

Max turned, to see Kenneth coming trotting along with a basket in his
hand.

"Off with your shoes and socks, Max," cried Kenneth.

He set the example, and was half across before Max was ready.

"Tuck up your trousers," continued Kenneth, laughing. "Why don't you
dress like I do? No trousers to tuck!"

Max obeyed to the letter, and followed into the stream, flinching and
making faces and balancing, as he held a shoe in each hand.

"Why, what's the matter?" cried Kenneth.

"It's--very--chilly," said Max, hurrying on as fast as he could, but
managing so badly that he put one foot in a deep place, and to save
himself from falling the other followed, with the result that he came
out on the other side with the bottoms of his trousers dripping wet.

CHAPTER NINE.

SALMON-FISHING.

"You are a fellow!" cried Kenneth, laughing. "Here, what are you going
to do?"

"Return to the castle and change them," said Max, as he was about to
retrace his steps.

"Nonsense! You mustn't mind a drop of water out here. We're going
salmon-fishing. I daresay you'll get wetter than that. Come on."

"I'll put on my shoes and stockings first," said Max, taking out a
pocket-handkerchief to use as a towel.

"Get out! Let the wind dry you. It's all sand and heather along here.
Come on."

Max sighed to himself, and limped after his guide, who stepped out
boldly over the rough ground, hopping from stone to stone, running his
feet well into patches of dry sand, which acted like old-fashioned
pounce on ink, and from merry malice picking out places where the
sand-thistles grew, all of which Max bore patiently for a few minutes,
and then, after pricking one of his toes sharply, he stopped short.

"What now?" cried Kenneth, with suppressed mirth.

"Hadn'