"Hold your tongue, Scood; and will you leave off calling people she?"
"Where would the boat have come up?" continued Scood.
"Bother! never mind that. There"s plenty of wind now, and we"ll soon race home."
"But we were in great danger, weren"t we?"
"N-n-no," said Kenneth cavalierly. "It would have been awkward if the boat had filled, but it didn"t fill. If you come to that, we"re in danger now."
"Danger now!" cried Max, clutching the side again.
"Yes, of course. If the boat was to sink, I daresay it"s two hundred feet deep here."
"Oh!"
"But that"s nothing. We"ll take you up Loch Doy. It"s seven hundred and fifty feet up there, and the water looks quite black. Ha, ha, ha!"
laughed Kenneth; "and the thought of it makes you look quite white."
"It seems so horrible."
"Not a bit. Why should it?" cried Kenneth. "It"s just as dangerous to sail in seven feet of water as in seven hundred."
"Mind tat rock," said Scoodrach.
"Well, I am minding it," said Kenneth carelessly, as, with the wind coming now in a good steady breeze, consequent upon their being out of the shelter of the point, he steered so that they ran within a few feet of where the waves creamed over a detached ma.s.s of rock.
Max was gazing back at the cascade, whose aspect from where they were well warranted the familiar name by which it was known. He could, however, see no beauty in the wild leap taken by the stream, and he drew a sigh of relief as they glided by the next point, and the fall pa.s.sed from his view, while the thunderous roar died away.
"There!" cried Kenneth; "that will be something for you to talk about when you go back. You don"t have falls like that in town."
"She"d petter not talk about it," said Scood. "If the Chief knows we took the poat so near, she"ll never let us go out in her again."
"Oh, I don"t know," said Kenneth. "It was pretty near, though. I say, don"t say anything to my father. Scood"s afraid he"d be horsewhipped."
"Nay, it"s the young master is afraid," retorted Scood.
"You say I"m afraid, Scood, and I"ll knock you in the water!"
Scood grinned, and began to slacken the sheet, for the wind kept coming in sharper puffs, and at every blast the boat heeled over to such an extent that Max felt certain that they must fill.
"You haul in that sheet, Scood, and let"s get all we can out of her."
"Nay, nay, laddie, she won"t bear any more. We ought to shorten ta sail."
"No," cried Kenneth; "I want to see how soon we can get home. Why, it"s ever so much past six now. We shan"t be back till late. Don"t want to see the Black Cavern, do you, to-night?"
"Oh no!" cried Max eagerly.
"We could row right in ever so far with the tide like this."
Max shuddered. It was bad enough in the open sea; the idea of rowing into a black cavern after what he had gone through horrified him.
"All right, then. Make that sheet fast, Scood, and trim the boat. I"ll make her skim this time."
"No," said Scood decisively. "Too much wind. She"ll hold ta sheet."
"You do as I tell you, or I"ll pitch you overboard."
Scood looked vicious, but said nothing, only seated himself to windward, so as to counterbalance the pressure, and held on by the sheet.
"Did you hear what I said?"
Scood nodded.
"Then make that sheet fast."
Scood shook his head.
"Will you make that sheet fast?"
"Too much wind."
Kenneth left the tiller and literally leaped on to Scood, and, to the horror of Max, there was a desperate wrestle, during which he was in momentary expectation of seeing both pitch over into the sea. The boat rocked, the sail flapped, and a wave came with a slap against the side, and splashed the luggage in the bottom, before Scood yielded, and sat down on the forward thwart.
"I don"t care," he said. "I can swim as long as I like."
"I"ll make you swim if you don"t mind," said Kenneth, seizing the rope and making it fast.
"She"ll go over, and you"ll trown the chentleman!" cried Scood.
"He won"t mind!" cried Kenneth, settling himself in the stern and seizing the tiller; when Max gave vent to a gasp, for the boat seemed to be going over, so great was the pressure on the bellying sails, but she rose again, and made quite a leap as she skimmed through the waves.
"That"s the way to make her move," cried Kenneth triumphantly. "Think I don"t know how to manage a boat, you red-headed old tyke?"
"Ah, chust wait till a squall comes out of one of the glens, Master Ken, and you"ll see."
"Tchah! Don"t you take any notice of him. He"s an old grey corbie.
Croak, croak, croak! Afraid of getting a ducking. You sit still and hold tight, and I"ll run you up to Dunroe in no time."
Max said nothing, but sat there in speechless terror, as, out of sheer obstinacy, and partly out of a desire to scare his new companion, Kenneth kept the sheet fast--the most reprehensible act of which a boatman can be guilty in a mountain loch--and the boat under far more pressure of sail than she ought to have borne.
The result was that they literally raced through the gleaming water, which was now being lit up by the setting sun, that turned the sides of the hills into so much transparent glory of orange, purple, and gold, while the sea gleamed and flashed and danced as if covered with leaping tongues of fire.
It was a wondrous evening, but Max Blande, as he clung there, could only see a boat caught by a sudden gust, and sinking, while it left them struggling in the restless sea.
Over and over again, as they rushed on, the bows were within an ace of diving into some wave, and the keel must often have shown, but by a dexterous turn of the tiller Kenneth avoided the danger just at the nick of time, and nothing worse happened than the leaping in of some spray, Scood silently sopping the gathering water with a large sponge, which he kept on wringing over the side.
"There"s a puff coming," cried Scood, suddenly looking west.