of the
narrow broken window opening, where he stood, hugging the pipes in one
hand, and shaking the other menacingly.

Then, changing his manner, he began to beckon with his great claw-like
hand.

"Nivver mind him, laddie. Come up here and I'll play ye Macrimmon owre
again."

"No, no!" exclaimed Max earnestly.

"Says he's afraid you'd blow the roof off, Tonal'," shouted Kenneth.
"No time. He's coming along with us;" and he led Max, to his very great
delight, out through the old arch on to the broad terrace by the sea.
But they had not gone many yards before they heard old Donald again
piping away, with no other audience but the jackdaws, which came and
settled near, and looked at him sideways, too much used to the wild
strains to be alarmed, and knowing from experience that the old piper
would pay no heed to them.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

BIRD-NESTING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

"What shall we do?" said Kenneth.

Just as he spoke, Max made a jump and turned nimbly round, for
Sneeshing, who had not been touched by Donald's stone, had come
fidgeting round them, and had had a sniff at the visitor's legs.

"I say, Max, there must be something very nice about your legs," cried
Kenneth, laughing. "Don't set the dog at me, please."

"I didn't. It's only his way. Here, what shall we do--fish?"

"Not to-day," said Max, giving involuntarily a rub of one white leg
against the other.

"Well, let's go and have a shot at something."

"I think I would rather not," pleaded Max, who looked with horror upon
the idea of tramping the mountain side clothed as he was. "What do you
say to a sail, then?"

Max shivered as he recalled his sensations upon the ride from the
steamer; but there was a favourable side to such a trip--he could sit in
the boat and have a railway wrapper about him.

"Where would you go if we sailed?"

"Oh, anywhere. Up the loch, over the firth, and through the sound.
Over to Inchkie Island. We'll take the guns; we may get a shot at a
hare, hawk, or an eagle."

Max nodded.

"That's right. Get down, Bruce! don't you get smelling his legs, or we
shall have him bobbing off into the sea."

The great deerhound, who was approaching in a very suspicious manner,
eyeing Max's thin legs, turned off, and, choosing a warm, smooth piece
of rock, lay down.

"Off you go, Scood, and bring the boat round. Come on, Max, and let's
get the guns. You can shoot, can't you?"

"I think so," said Max, as Scoodrach