Once or twice there really had been reason for this, but, seeing how nervous it made Max, Scoodrach kept it up, taking a malicious delight in ducking his head, rubbing his nose, and fidgeting the tyro, who would gladly have laid down his rod but for the encouraging remarks made by Kenneth.
All at once the latter turned his head, from where he stood in the bows of the boat, and began watching Max, smiling grimly as he saw how clumsy a cast was made, and the smile grew broader as he noticed Scoodrach’s exaggerated mock gesticulations of dread.
Then there was another cast, and Scood ducked his head down again. Then another cast, and Scood threw his head sideways and held up one arm, but this time the side of his bare head came with a sounding rap up against the butt of Kenneth’s rod.
“Mind what you’re doing!” shouted Kenneth.
“Hwhat tid ye do that for?” cried Scoodrach, viciously rubbing his sconce.
“Do it for? Why don’t you sit still, and not get throwing your head about all over the boat?”
“She tid it o’ purpose,” growled Scoodrach; “and she’s cooard to hit a man pehind her pack.”
“If you call me a coward, Scoody, I’ll pitch you overboard.”
“No, she wouldna. She has not get pack her strength.”
“Then Max will help me, and we’ll see then.”