Nor was there any need, for tame and domestic though its scenery is, the whole history of the country, even before the Union, teems with deeds of derring-do, done by her brave sons, on many and many a blood-drenched field of battle.
As for Frank himself, he seemed not only to settle down to his life in the wilds in less than a week, but to become quite enthusiastic over "Scotland's hills and Scotland's dells"; and he was not slow in reminding his 42nd cousins that he too had a drop of real Highland blood in his veins.
"We'll soon make a man of you, dear boy," said the Laird one evening. "Now, myself, and my lads, with Vike and a setter, are going after the white hares to-morrow, and if you think yourself strong enough, we shall take you."
"Oh, I feel strong enough now for anything," replied Frank laughing.
"Mind it is terribly hard work; but there is a little snow on the ground, and we'll be able to track the hares easily."
"I don't think that Frank should go, Ronald," put in Mrs. M'Vayne; "the boy is far indeed from hardy, and it may exhaust him quite. You'll stay at home with me, won't you, Frank?"
"Yes, aunt, if you bid me, but--" He hesitated.
"Oh!" cried Duncan, "that 'but' turns the scale, mother. Don't you ask him to stay, mother. All Englishmen have pluck if they haven't all strength. So Frank is coming."
The morning was very bright and beautiful, with just a slight "scriffen" of snow on the ground, and the sun rose over the eastern hills in a blue-gray haze, like a ball of crimson fire, and intimated his intention of shining all day long.
Duncan and Conal were up betimes, and had got everything in readiness long before Frank came down.