“There they are, Max, the pair of them,” said Kenneth.
“Isn’t it cruel to take their nest, supposing you can get it?” said Max.
“Oh, very,” replied Kenneth coolly. “We ought to leave it alone, and let the young hawks grow up and harry and strike down the grouse and eat the young clucks. Why, do you know how many birds those two murder a day?”
“No,” said Max.
“Neither do I; but they do a lot of mischief, and the sooner their nest is taken the better.”
“I did not think of that. They’re such beautiful birds upon the wing, that it seems a pity to destroy them.”
“Yes; but only let me get a chance. Why, if we were to let these things get ahead along with the eagles, they’d murder half the young birds and lambs in the country. Now, Scood, how’s it to be?”
Scoodrach grunted, and kicked away the earth in different places, till he found where there was a good crevice between two pieces of rock, where, making use of the anchor as if it were a pickaxe, he dug out the earth till he could force down one fluke close between the stones till the stock was level, when he gave it a final stamp, and rose up.
“There,” he said, “twenty poys could not pull that oot.”
“Yes, that will bear, unless it jumps out,” said Kenneth. “Look here, Max, will you go down first?”