“Well, who’s to help it if you will be such a mollycoddle! Slip on your socks and shoes now. I want you to catch that salmon.”
“Ah yes, I should like to catch a salmon!” said Max, hastily pulling on his socks and then his too tight shoes. “There, I’m ready now.”
Half a mile farther they struck the side of a sea loch, and, after following its shore for a short distance, Kenneth plunged into the heath and began to climb a steep, rugged slope, up which Max toiled, till on the top he paused, breathless and full of wonder at the beauty of the scene. The slope they had climbed was the back-bone of a buttress of the hill which flanked the loch, the said buttress running out and forming a promontory.
“There, we have cut off quite half a mile by coming up here.”
“How beautiful!” said Max involuntarily, as he gazed at the long stretch of miles of blue water which ran right in among the mountainous hills.
“Yes, it’s all right,” cried Kenneth. “There they are half way down to the river.”
“Then we are not going to fish in the loch?”
“No, no; we’re going to hit the river yonder, a mile from where it enters the sea, and work on up toward the fresh-water loch.”
“Where is the river, then?”
“You can’t see it. Runs down yonder among the trees and rocks. You can just see where it goes into the loch,” continued Kenneth, pointing. “Hillo! ahoy!”