“She never told her to bring ta birds,” grumbled Scoodrach, in an ill-used tone.
“I believe you went to sleep. I’ve a jolly good mind to pitch you overboard.”
“She’s always saying she’ll pitch her overpoard.”
“There, come along down,” said Long Shon.
“No, I’m not going without my birds, Shonny,” cried Kenneth. “Here, Scood, go down and fetch ’em. No; if I send you down, you’ll go to sleep again, and forget them. Here, Tavvy, give us hold of the rope.”
“She isna going town gain,” remonstrated the great Highlander.
“Oh yes, she is.”
“No, no, pray don’t venture again!” whispered Max.
“What! and leave those two poor birds to starve? Not I. Here, Tav, hold tight.”
The great forester stood by while Kenneth threw over some fifty feet of the rope, and then stood smiling grimly, while, in defiance of all advice, and trusting utterly to the strength of the gillie’s arms, Kenneth seized the rope, and let himself glide over the edge of the rock, dropping out of sight directly, while Max held his breath, as he saw the quivering of the forester’s arms as Kenneth slipped down.