“Ta loons air hiding, laddie,” whispered Tavish, “and hearin’ every word we say. Hey! but Dirk has it again. Gude tog! gude tog!”
Dirk had suddenly taken up the track again, and followed faithfully on, right up the side of the glen, and away over the level mountain plain, after tracking the fugitive by the side of a great fall, which made its way downward into the loch.
The rest of the hunt was easy, for Dirk took them on and on; Kenneth growing so excited, as he felt that the end of the chase was near, that he left Tavish and his father far in the rear.
Then Dirk dashed right away, and Kenneth was in turn left behind, till he knew that the dog had found, for his loud baying came from away in the darkness, as he stood barking over the spot where Max lay, half asleep, half in a state of stupor, brought on by cold.
Chapter Thirty Two.
Instructions from London.
“There, you jolly old scaramouch!” cried Kenneth, laughing. “Now I can serve you out.”
“No, no, Kenneth; let me get up, please.”