-ass that I have been, and that I am, to offer that
which at any hour may belong to some one else."

"Well," he added, after a pause, "folly receives its punishments, and
the greatest of all follies is to game."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE STAG MAX DID NOT SHOOT.

"I say, Max!" said Kenneth one day, as they sat at either end of a boat,
whipping away at the surface of the rippling water of one of the inland
lochs, up to which the said boat had been dragged years before, upon
rough runners like a sleigh, partly by the ponies, partly by hand
labour. Scoodrach was seated amidships, rowing slowly, and every now
and then tucking his oar under his leg, to give his nose a rub, and
grumble something about "ta flee."

This was on the occasion when the fly Max was throwing came dangerously
near hooking into the gristle of the young gillie's most prominent
feature.

Kenneth did not finish his sentence, for just then he hooked a trout
which gave him a fair amount of play before it was brought alongside,
where Scoodrach, who had ceased rowing, was ready with the landing-net.

"Let me land it," cried Max; and, taking the net, he held it as he had
seen Scoodrach perform the same operation a score of times.

"All right!" cried Kenneth. "He's a beauty; pound and a half, I know.
Now then--right under."

Kenneth's elastic rod was bent nearly double, as Max leaned forward,
and, instead of lowering the net well into the water so that the fish
might glide into it, he made an excited poke, and struck the fish with
the ring; there was a faint whish as the rod suddenly straightened; a
splash as the trout flapped the water with its tail and went off free,
and Max and Kenneth stared at each other.

"She couldna hae done tat," muttered Scoodrach.

"Yes, you could, stupid!" said Kenneth, glad of some one upon whom he
could vent his spleen. "You've knocked ever so many fish off that way."

"I'm very, very sorry," said Max humbly.

"That won't bring back the trout," grumbled Kenneth. "Never mind, old
chap, I'll soon have another. Why don't you go on throwing?"

"Because I am stupid over it. I shall never throw a fly properly."

"Not if you give up without trying hard. Go on and have another good
turn. Whip away. It'll come easier soon."

Max went on whipping away, but his success was very small, for he grew
more and more nervous as he saw that Scoodrach flinched every time he
made a cast, as if the hook had come dangero