“Come oot!” he roared. “Come oot, laddies!”
“What’s the matter, Tavvy? Has my father—”
“Nay, laddie; he’s no’ come back. Come oot! come oot!”
The boat was run in, Scoodrach left to moor her, and Kenneth leaped ashore.
“What’s wrong?” he cried, as he was saluted by a burst of baying from the dogs, which had been waiting their master’s return.
“Wrang, my laddie? She had to gang doon to Kinlochai, and there she found ta bailies.”
“What, at the farm?”
“At ta fairm, laddie, noo. An ugly, pock-faaced chief wi’ hauf a dizzen loons asked me ta way to Dunroe. He’s a bailie coming to tak’ ta place.”
“What? Nonsense, Tavvy!”
“Hey, but it’s nae nonsense, laddie, for she met Dooncan Graeme, and Dooncan knew her at Glasgie. She’s ta bailie, and she’s coming to tak’ ta Dunroe.”