“Now, Dirk! seek, laddie, seek!”
The dog dashed at the clothes, snuffed at them, tossed them over, snuffed at them again, and then uttered a sharp, whining bark.
“Come along,” cried Kenneth, and he ran down to the hall, where his father was ready, and then out into the dark courtyard, at whose entrance Tavish was waiting, armed with a tall staff.
“I ken ye’re richt, maister,” he said. “We’ll lay ta collie on chust where the laddie saw ta young chentleman last.”
Very little was said as they trudged on, Kenneth holding Dirk by one of his ears, till they reached the foot of the slope, pointed out by Scoodrach as the road taken by Max.
Here the dog was loosed, and he looked up in his master’s face, barking loudly, as if asking for instructions, and not yet comprehending what was meant.
“Seek, laddie, seek! Max, Max! Seek, seek!”
Dirk uttered a low yelping whine, and began to quarter the ground, whimpering and growing more and more excited as he increased the distance between him and those who followed by sound, for the dog was soon invisible in the darkness.
For quite a quarter of an hour the hunt was kept on, each minute damping the hopes of the party more and more, till The Mackhai said sadly,—
“It’s of no use, my boy. You’re asking too much of the dog.”