d Kenneth; and back
they tramped to Long Shon's bothy, that worthy sitting at the door
smoking a pipe, and smiling broadly as he saw his son approaching with
the goodly fish, the circulation brought by the walk having chased away
the sensation of cold.

"Here, Shon, weigh this fish," cried Kenneth imperiously.

"Ask Tavish," was the reply. "He'll tell you to a pound, sir."

"I tell you I want you to weigh it," cried Kenneth and Shon rose to his
feet, to stand not much higher than he sat, and, taking the fish, he
bore it into the place where he cut up and packed the haunches of
venison. There the capture was hung upon one of the hooks of the
steelyard.

"Now, Tavish, look," cried Kenneth triumphantly. "Five-and-twenty
pounds if it's an ounce."

"Three-an'-twenty, and hardly that," said Tavish firmly. "Noo, Shon,
what does she scale?"

"Twa-an'-twenty pun' an' three-quairters," said Long Shon.

"Oh!" exclaimed Kenneth, in a disappointed tone.

"An' ta finest fush o' the season, laddie," cried Tavish triumphantly.
"And noo, if ye winna hae a drappie, go and tak' aff the wat claes, for
too much watter is bad for a man, even if the watter's coot."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A LESSON FROM MAX.

"Caught a twenty-two-pound salmon, eh?" said The Mackhai, looking up
from a letter he was reading.

"He thinks he caught it, father," said Kenneth, laughing; and, as they
stood waiting in the dining-room, the boy related the adventure of the
day, and how they had, after changing, gone for a long tramp across the
mountain slope, and chased the hares. "Well, be civil to him, Ken.
Remember we are gentlemen. And even if he is the son of a miserable
shark of a lawyer, let his father learn that the Mackhais can do good
for evil."

Kenneth stared wonderingly in his father's face. "What does it all
mean?" he thought, and he noted the lines of trouble and annoyance
deepening as The Mackhai let his eye fall upon his letter once more.

"My father must hate his father," thought Kenneth; "and he is too much
of a gentleman to show his dislike to his son. Why does he have him
here, then? A stupid, girlish muff of a fellow! One's obliged to laugh
at him, poor beggar!"

The Mackhai doubled up his letter angrily, and thrust it into his
pocket.

"Did that boy hear the gong?" he said peevishly.

"I don't know, father. Shall I run up to his room?"

"No, certainly not. Treat him as you would any other visitor, but you
are not