But soon they had to force their way through heather that came up even to the laird"s and the tall keeper"s waists, and all but buried little Frank.
He held his gun aloft, however, and struggled bravely on.
In about a quarter of an hour they had emerged, and the boys were shaking the snow from their kilts.
On and up. Why, it was always on and up.
They marched all that forenoon, sometimes around rocky spurs and paps of the mountains, sometimes along bare and barren glens, sometimes along the edges of fearful precipices, where a single slip or false step would have meant a terrible accident.
By the time they had reached the cliffy shelter of a very high hill, they had bagged eight white hares in all.
And now it was noon, and though the frost was fairly hard, the exercise had warmed their life-blood, and they felt no cold.
Hunger, though? Ah! yes, but that could speedily be appeased.
Plaids were spread on the ground, and down they all sat, the dogs not far off, and I"m sure that the keeper, st.u.r.dy chiel though he was, felt glad to be lightened of his load.
What a jolly meal that was to be sure! With her own lady fingers the laird"s wife had made that splendid pie. Pie for five and almost enough for fifty. But then, of course, there were the honest dogs to be considered, and they easily disposed of all that was left.
Bread--that is, real oatcakes--cheese, and b.u.t.ter followed.
The boys washed all down with a flagon of milk, but in the interests of truth, I must add that the laird and his keeper had a modest gla.s.s or two of Highland whisky.
And now, after yarning for about half an hour, sport was resumed.
Farther up the hillsides they still went, and so on and on for two whole hours.
It had been a grand day, but as the sun was now declining towards the blue blue ocean, the laird called a halt.
"I think, boys," he said, "we"ve done enough, and as we are nearly ten miles from home we had better be retracing our steps. Donald has as many hares as he can carry. Haven"t you, Donald?"
"Och! well, it"s nothing," was the reply. "And it"s all down-hill now you"ll mind, sir."
"Yes. Well, lead the way, Donald."
Donald did.
For one of the party, and that was Frank, the journey was a terrible one. On the upward march there was all the excitement of the sport to keep him up. But now he had no such stimulant to stir his English blood.
When still three miles from Glenvoie mansion-house, Duncan observed that he was very pale and limped most painfully. In fact the poor boy"s ankles were swollen, and his toes felt like whitlows; but although so tired that he could hardly carry his gun, that indomitable English courage of his kept him from complaining.
He confessed, however, feeling just a little tired, so the laird poured a small quant.i.ty of whisky into a measure, mixed it with snow, and made him swallow it.
After this he felt better.
When they arrived at the top of the very lower-most and lost hill, the house being but half a mile distant, they sat down for a short time to rest and gaze across the sea.
The sun"s lower limb had just touched the wester-most wave, and red and fiery gleamed his beams "twixt horizon and sh.o.r.e. It was a beautiful sight.
Many flocks of rooks were winging their way northwards to the shelter of the great forest, and now and then a string of wild ducks were seen in full flight towards the tall reeds that bordered an ice-bound lake.
Slowly sank the sun, the waves seemed to wash up across its blood-red surface, and gradually, so gradually, engulfed the whole.
"And the sun"s last rosy rays did fade Into twilight soft and dim."
Frank Trelawney was indeed glad when he found himself once more in his own room. The man brought water, and with Highland courtesy insisted on bathing his feet.
He next hurried away for a cup of delicious coffee, after swallowing which Frank felt like a giant refreshed, and soon went down into the drawing-room.
He was still pale, however, for the terrible fatigue had temporarily affected the heart.
Little Flora was not slow to note this.
"Oh, cousin," she said, "how white and tired-looking you are! You shouldn"t have gone. You"re only a poor little English boy, you know."
Frank liked the child"s sympathy, but he certainly did not feel flattered by the last sentence.
"That"s all," he mustered courage to say. "I"m only a poor c.o.c.kney lad, and I think, Flora, I"ve had enough white-hare shooting to last me for a very long time. When next your father and brothers go after game of this sort, I"ll stay at home and make love to you."
Frank, however, was as well as could be next day, and after a cold bath went hungrily down to breakfast.
The day was as still and bright as ever, and it was to be spent upon the loch.
Curling--which might be called a kind of gigantic game of billiards on the ice--was to be engaged in. A party was coming from a neighbouring parish, and a strong club was to meet them.
At this most splendid "roaring" game there is no cla.s.s distinction; lord and laird, parson and peasant, all play side by side, all are equal, and all feed together, ay, and partake of Highland usquebaugh together also.
Well, the laird"s party were victorious, and all were invited up to Glenvoie house, to partake of an excellent dinner, laid out in the barn.
But the barn was beautifully clean, and along its wall, among evergreens, was placed many a bright cl.u.s.ter of candles.
The silver and crystal sparkled on the snow-white table-cloth, and that huge joint of hot corn-beef and carrots--the curlers" dinner _par excellence_--was partaken of with great gusto.
Bread and cheese and whisky followed this, then the minister returned thanks, and this was followed by more whisky, with song after song.
"Roof and rafters a" did dirl."
It was not till near to the "wee short "oor ayont the twal" that the party broke up, and all departed for their distant homes, on horseback or in traps.
Did I say "all departed"? What an awkward thing it is to be possessed of a conscience! I have one which, whenever I deviate in the slightest degree from the straight lines of truth, brings me up with a round turn.
Well, _all_ did not depart, for the corn-beef--let us say--had flown to the legs and to the heads of half a dozen jolly fellows at least, and they determined that they wouldn"t go home till morning.
So they had some more toddy, sang "Auld Lang Syne", and then retreating to the rear of the barn, curled up amongst the straw and were soon fast asleep.