boy, springing up and sending his arms
about like a windmill. But this time Steve stood fast, laughing; while
the boy stopped short, looking up fiercely, and then grinned.

"I see you all the time hiding ahint the stanes!" he cried.

"Come, jump up; here's the captain."

The effect of those words was magical, for the man, a big,
good-humoured-looking Scot, also sprang up and stepped to his place on
the thwart forward, and cried to the boy:

"Naw, Watty, handy there with that hitcher!"

The boy caught up the boat-hook, drew the boat close to where the
painter was fastened, and then hauled her along, after casting off, to
where a rough wooden ladder was clamped to the side of the wharf.

Both moved smartly, for, short as the time had been that they had served
on board the _Hvalross_, Captain Marsham had drilled the men into
something like the same habits as those of his old crew when he
commanded a sloop in the Royal Navy, before he retired from the service
and settled down at Dartmouth. Since then he had amused himself with
his yacht, till, hearing of the non-return of his old friend Captain
Young, he determined to fit out the _Hvalross_ and make an expedition to
the north, taking with him his ward, Stephen Young, who had long been
importuning him to arrange for his going to sea.

The boat was waiting as Captain Marsham came to the edge of the little
granite wharf, and they had just stepped in when a strange sound came
floating through the silence of the soft, dreamy summer air, followed
directly by a long-drawn, plaintive howl that was almost terrible in its
despairing tone.

"What ever is that?" cried the doctor, starting up from his seat and
shading his eyes to gaze at the anchored vessel.

"It's Skene-dhu!" cried Steve. "What's he howling at? Because we're
ashore?"

"Pipes," said the man, who was now pulling steadily at one oar, while
the boy tugged at the other.

"Pipes?" cried the captain. "What pipes? They surely don't play the
bagpipes in Norway?"

"No, sir. It's Andra McByle brought his fra Oban."

"There, pull, my lads!" said the captain, frowning. "We shall have
plenty to depress us going north without winds of this description, eh,
Steve?"

"Yes, it's horrid," said that young gentleman; and the boy who was
rowing looked up at him sharply with a frown on his heavy brows.

And all the while the wild, weird strain grew louder, and the howling
more piteous, till the boat reached the ve