ting, and the little party starting off at once.

Before they had gone far, The Mackhai turned his head.

"Where is that boy?" he said.

No one replied, for Scood had not been seen to leave, but from where he
was seated Kenneth could just see a tuft of wool sticking up above the
heather, and he pressed the sides of his pony and cantered back to where
the boy lay upon his face in a hollow, with his bonnet tilted on to the
back of his head.

"Here, Scoody! What are you doing there?" cried Kenneth.

"Naething."

"Get up, sir, and come on."

"Na. She will gang away and be a redcoat. Naebody cares for Scoody the
noo."

"Don't be a red-headed donkey. Get up, and come and show us which way
Max Blande went."

Scoodrach shook his head.

"Look here, if you don't get up, I'll call father, and he'll come and
lay into you with the dog-whip."

"He wadna daur," cried the lad, leaping up and glaring at the speaker.

"Yes, he would, and so would I, if I had one here."

"Gin ye daur lay a finger on her, she'll hae your bluid!" cried
Scoodrach.

"There!" cried Kenneth, pressing his pony's sides, and reaching over to
catch tightly hold of the lad's collar. "I daur lay a whole hand on
you, Scoody. Noo, lat's see gin ye daur turn on your Chief."

"Ye know I wadna hurt a hair o' your heid," muttered the lad.

"Then come on, like a good fellow, Scoody, and help to find him."

"D'ye want to find the laddie wha's gaun to rob ye o' ta auld plaace?"

"Yes. Come on, Scood. We mustn't quarrel, and you won't be such a
brute as to refuse to help me because I'm going to be poor."

"Puir or rich!" cried the lad, with the tears of excitement in his eyes,
"gin ye want her to, she'll dee for ye, Maister Ken."

"That's old Scoody once again," cried Kenneth, drumming his pony's
flanks; and as the little animal whisked round, Scoodrach caught hold of
its long tail, gave the hairs a twist round his hand, and away they went
after the others, to whom they soon caught up.

Then followed a long and wearisome search, Scoodrach pointing out the
way Max had taken, when, as there was no path or even sheep-track, they
divided, and went on mile after mile, only to give up at dark and return
tired and faint, and with Scoodrach hanging his head as he felt how he
had been the cause of all the trouble; and, seizing the first
opportunity, he slipped off with the ponies, to bed them down for the
night.

"We must be up at daybreak and begin