“Look out! there she goes,” cried Scoodrach.
Kenneth raised his gun, but the bird to which his attention was drawn was out of shot.
“That’s the hen bird, Scood.”
“Yes; and I can see where the nest is,” cried the young gillie.
“Where?”
Kenneth laid his hand on Max’s, which was upon the tiller, pressed it hard, and, to the lad’s surprise, the boat glided round till she faced the wind, and then lay gently rising and falling, with the sail shivering slightly in the breeze.
“Yes, that’s it, sure enough, on that ledge somewhere,” said Kenneth, after a long stare up at the face of the grey crag. “See, Max?”
“No.”
“Why, there, about fifty feet from the top. See now?”
“No.”