Kenneth made no reply, only held out his hand.
Max grasped his meaning, and caught the hand in his, to hold it tightly, the two lads gazing in each other’s eyes as a strong friendship was cemented between them, one far more binding than Kenneth could have imagined in his wildest dreams.
“There; I’m going to fetch the dogs,” said Max hastily, and he ran out of the room, and down and out into the castle yard, where, to his horror, the first person he saw was old Donald, looking more wild and strange than ever.
Max backed into the archway leading to the house, hoping he had not been seen, but the old man uttered what was meant for a cry of delight, and, smiling at him, began to beckon with his hand and arm.
“What shall I do?” muttered Max, as the old man came up and tried to catch hold of his arm.
“Hey, bonnie laddie!” he cried, in a confidential whisper. “She’s been watching for ye. She’s chust made ta peautiful new dirge, and she shall play it to you up in ta toor.”
“No, no,” cried Max desperately. “The young Mackhai has sent me on a message.”
“Ou ay! Put she’ll not pe long. It was a peautiful music, and ye— Ta Southron laddie’s gane!”
It was quite true, for Max had darted back and run to the dining-room, to get round by the terrace, and so by the rocks to the other side of the ruins, in search of the dogs.
There he came suddenly upon Scoodrach, lying on his chest in the sun, and with his chin in his hands, gazing up at the window of Kenneth’s room.