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Three Boys; or, the Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 2. "A Bore!" |
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_ CHAPTER TWO. "A BORE!" "What a bother!" muttered Kenneth, as he left the dining-room, crossed the hall, and entered a little oak-panelled place filled with all kinds of articles used in the chase, and whose walls were dotted with trophies--red deer and roebucks' heads, stuffed game, wild fowl, a golden eagle, and a pair of peregrine falcons. He took a double-barrel from the rack, placed a supply of cartridges in a belt, buckled it on, and then returned to the oak-panelled hall, to pause where his bonnet hang over the hilt of an old claymore. Carelessly putting this on, he sauntered out of the hall into the shingly path, where he was saluted by a chorus of barking. A great rough-coated, long-legged deerhound came bounding up, followed first by a splendid collie with a frill about his neck like a wintry wolf, and directly after by a stumpy-legged, big-headed, rough grey Scotch terrier, with a quaint, dry-looking countenance, which seemed like that of some crotchety old man. "Hi, Bruce!" cried Kenneth, as the deerhound thrust a pointed nose into his hand. "What, Dirk, lad!" This to the collie, which reared up to put its paws upon his chest, and rubbed its head against its master; while the little dog ran round and round clumsily, barking all the while. "Down, Dirk! Quiet, Sneeshing, quiet!" The dogs were silent on the moment, but followed close at their master's heels, eyeing the gun wistfully, the deerhound going further, and snuffing at the lock. Being apparently satisfied that it was not a rifle, and that consequently his services would not be required, the hound stopped short by a warm, sheltered place, crouched down, and formed itself into an ornament upon the sea-washed rock. "There, you can do the same, Dirk. It's boat day," said Kenneth. The collie uttered a whine and a loud bark. "Yes, it's boat day, lad. Be off!" The dog stopped short, and only the little ugly grey terrier followed his master, wagging a short stump of a tail the while, till Kenneth noted his presence. "No, not to-day," he said sharply. "Wuph!" "No. Can't take you. Go back, old chap. Another time!" Sneeshing uttered a low whine, but he dropped down on the shingle which took the place of gravel, and Kenneth went slowly on along a path formed like a shelf of the huge rock, which, a peninsula at low, an island at high water, towered up from the blue sea an object of picturesque beauty, and a landmark for the sailors who sailed among the fiords and rocks of the western shore. The scene around was glorious. Where the soft breeze did not turn the water into dazzling, rippling molten silver which sent flashes of light darting through the clear air, there were broad bands of still water of a brilliant blue; others beneath the shelter of the land were of a deep transparent amethyst, while every here and there mountainous islands rose from the sea, lilac, purple, and others of a delicate softened blue, which died away into the faintest film. Shoreward, glorified by the sunshine, the mountains rose from the water's edge; grey masses of stone tumbled in confusion from a height of four thousand feet to the shore, with clusters of towering pine and larch and groups of pensile birches in every sheltered nook. Here the mountain showed patches of dark green and purple heath; there brilliant green and creamy beds of bog moss, among which seemed to run flashing veins of silver, which disappeared and came into sight, and in one place poured down with a deep, loud roar, while a mist, looking like so much smoke, slowly rose from the fall, and floated away with a rainbow upon its breast. On every side, as Kenneth Mackhai gazed around from the rocky foot of the mouldering old castle, there were scenes of beauty which would have satisfied the most exacting. Cloud shadow, gleaming sunshine, purple heather, yellow ragwort like dusts of gold upon the mountain side, and at his feet the ever-changing sea. It was all so lovely that the lad stood as if entranced, and exclaimed aloud,-- "Bother!" Then there was a pause, and, with an impatient stamp of his foot, he exclaimed,-- "Oh, hang it all! what a bore!" But this was not at the scene around. Ken had looked upon it all in storm and sunshine ever since he could toddle, and he saw none of it now. His mental gaze was directed at the salmon stream, the trouty lochs, the moors with their grouse and black game, and the mountains by Glenroe where he was to have gone deer-stalking with Long Shon and Tavish, and with Scood to lead the dogs, and now all this was to be given up because a visitor was coming down. "Ah-o! ah-o!" came from the water, and a boat came gliding round from the little bay behind the castle, with Scood standing up in the stern, and turning an oar into a fish's tail, giving it that peculiar waving motion which acts after the fashion of a screw propeller, and sends a boat along. But the boat needed little propelling, for the tide swept swiftly round by the rocky promontory on which the castle stood, and in a few minutes Scood had run the little vessel close beside a table-like mass of rock which formed a natural pier, and, leaping out, rope in hand, he stood waiting for Kenneth to descend. "Look here, you sir," cried the latter; "didn't I tell you to put on your shoes and stockings?" "Well, she's got 'em in the poat all ready." "I'll get you in the boat all ready!" cried Ken angrily. "You do as you're told." "And where am I to get another pair when they're worn out?" remonstrated Scood. "How should I know? There, jump in." Ken set the example, which was followed by Scood, and, as the boat glided off, yielding to the stream and the impetus, a miserable yelp came from the rocks above, followed by two dismal howls in different keys. Then there was an atrocious trio performed by the three dogs, each of which raised its muzzle and its eyes skyward, and uttered an unmusical protest against being left behind. "Yah, kennel! go home!" roared Kenneth; and the collie and deerhound, after another mournful howl apiece, went back, but the grey terrier paid no heed to the command, but came closer down to the water, and howled more loudly. "Ah, Sneeshing!" cried Scoodrach. "Yow--how!" cried the dog piteously, which evidently by interpretation out of the canine tongue meant, "Take me!" "Will you be off?" shouted Kenneth. "How-aoooo!" "If you don't be off, I'll--" The lad raised his gun, cocked both barrels, and took aim. The effect upon the ugly little terrier was instantaneous. He tucked his tail between his legs, and rushed off as hard as ever he could lay leg to rugged rock? Nothing of the kind. He took it as a direct insult and an injurious threat. Raising his stumpy tail to its full height of two inches, without counting the loose grey hairs on the top, he planted his four feet widely apart, and barked furiously, changing his appealing whines to growls of defiance. "You shall not frighten him," said Scood, showing his teeth. "I'll let you see," cried Kenneth. "Here, you, Sneeshing, be off! home!" There was a furiously defiant roulade of barks. "Do you hear, sir? Go home!" A perfect volley of barks. Bang! Kenneth fired over the dog. "You shall not frighten him," said Scoodrach again. He was quite right, for the shot seemed to madden the dog, who came to the very edge of the rock, barking, snarling, leaping up with all four legs off the rock at once, dashing to and fro, and biting at the scraps of lichen and seaweed. "She says you're a coward, and don't dare do it again," cried Scoodrach, grinning. "Does he? Then we'll see," cried Kenneth, firing again in the air. "I told you so," cried Scoodrach. "Look at him. She'd bite you if you wass near." "For two pins I'd give him a good peppering," grumbled Kenneth, slipping a couple of cartridges into the gun, and laying it down. "Not you," said Scood, stepping the mast, Kenneth helping him with the stays, and to hoist a couple of sails. Then the rudder was hooked on, and, as the rapid current bore them out beyond the point, the wind filled the sails, the boat careened over, the water rattled beneath her bows, and, as the little vessel seemed to stand still, the beautiful panorama of rocky, tree-adorned shore glided by, Sneeshing's furious barking growing more distant, and dying right away. _ |
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