a teal o' watter in the fa's," said Scoodrach gravely.

"Of course there is, stupid, after this rain," cried Kenneth. "Tell me
something I don't know."

"Couldn't tell her nothing she don't know," cried Scoodrach. "She reats
books, and goes to school, and learns efferything."

"That's just what the masters say I don't do, Scoody. Here, let's go
down to the basin."

"What! get down there?" cried Max in horror, as Kenneth seated himself
on the edge of the stony channel through which the water came down from
the mountain before making its leap.

"Yes; it's easy enough," cried Kenneth, dangling his legs to and fro,
and making them brush through the fronds of a beautiful fern growing in
a crevice. "Scoody and I have often been down."

"But she shall not go pelow now," said the young gillie, looking down at
the smooth, glassy current. "There's chust too much watter in ta way."

"Get out!" cried Kenneth. "Look here, Max: you can get down here to the
edge of the water, and follow it to where it makes its first leap, and
then get under it to the other side, and clamber on to the edge of the
basin where it spreads, and look down. It's glorious. Come on."

"Na, she will not come," cried Scoodrach. "There's too much watter."

"You're a worse coward than Max."

"Nay, she shall na go," cried Scoodrach, making a bound to the spot
where Kenneth was seated; but quick as thought the lad twisted round,
let himself glide down, and, as the young gillie made a dash at his
hands, they slid over the moss and grass and were gone.

Kenneth's merry laugh came up out of the narrow rift, sounding muffled
and strange, and the two lads looked down to where he was creeping
along, some fifteen feet below them, in the half-darkness of the hollow,
and holding on by the pendent roots which issued from the crevices, as
he picked his way along the stones, with the water often washing against
his feet.

"Come down, Max. Don't be a coward," he cried, as he looked up over his
shoulder at the two anxious faces, while the hiss, rush, and roar of the
water nearly covered with sound his half-heard voice.

"She's coing to troon herself, ye ken!" cried Scoodrach, stamping his
foot with rage. "Come pack, Maister Ken! Do she hear me? Come pack!"

Kenneth probably did not hear the words, but he looked up again and
laughed, as he stood near the end of the narrow gully, with the sunny
light of the great hollow behind him showing up his form, a