“Is Walter Scott alive? I’ve read all his stories.”
“No, no; I mean our shaggy pony. He’s half Scotch, half Shetland, and the rummest little beggar you ever saw. He can climb and slide, and jump like a grasshopper. All you’ve got to do is to stick your knees into him and hold on by the mane when he’s going up so steep a place that you begin to slip over his tail, and you’re all right, only you have to kick at his nose when he tries to bite.”
Max looked aghast.
“Can you fish?”
“No.”
“But you brought a lot of rods.”
“Oh yes. Father said I was to learn to fish and shoot while I was down here, as some day I should be a Highland landlord.”
“We can teach you all that sort of thing.”
“Can you fish and shoot?”
“Can I? I say, are you chaffing me?”