ather rough down here; but this is the
Highlands. You'll soon get used to us. There's no carriage, but we can
give you a mount on a capital pony. Walter Scott would do for you."

"Is Walter Scott alive? I've read all his stories."

"No, no; I mean our shaggy pony. He's half Scotch, half Shetland, and
the rummest little beggar you ever saw. He can climb and slide, and
jump like a grasshopper. All you've got to do is to stick your knees
into him and hold on by the mane when he's going up so steep a place
that you begin to slip over his tail, and you're all right, only you
have to kick at his nose when he tries to bite."

Max looked aghast.

"Can you fish?"

"No."

"But you brought a lot of rods."

"Oh yes. Father said I was to learn to fish and shoot while I was down
here, as some day I should be a Highland landlord."

"We can teach you all that sort of thing."

"Can you fish and shoot?"

"Can I? I say, are you chaffing me?"

"No; I mean it."

"Well, just a little. Let's see, I'm seventeen nearly, and I was only
six when my father made me fire off a gun first. I've got a little one
in the gun-room that I used to use."

"And were you very young when you began to learn to fish?"

"I caught a little salmon when I was eight. Father said the fish nearly
drowned me instead of me drowning the salmon. But I caught him all the
same."

"How was that?"

"Oh, I tumbled in, I suppose, and rolled over in the stream. Shon
pulled me out."

"Did he?"

"Yes; Scood's father. He's one of our gillies. Lives down there."

"By that pig-sty?"

"Pig-sty? That isn't a pig-sty. That's a bothy."

"Oh!" said Max, as he stared at a rough, whitewashed hovel, thatched,
and covered with hazel rods tied down to keep the thatch from blowing
off.

"There won't be time to-night after dinner, but I'll take you down to
Shon to-morrow. We always call him Long Shon because he's so little,
and we pretend he's so fond of whisky. Scood's a head taller than his
father."

"It will be all most interesting, I'm sure," said Max, whose feet felt
very wet and uncomfortable.

"I'll take you to see Tavish too," continued Kenneth, with a half-laugh
at his companion's didactic form of speech. "Tavish is our forester."

"Forester?"

"Yes; and then I must introduce you to Donald Dhu."

"Is he a Scottish chief?"

"Well," said Kenneth, with a half laugh, "I daresay he thinks so. Like
pipes?"

"Pipes? No, I never tri