And now it was noon, and though the frost was fairly hard, the exercise had warmed their life-blood, and they felt no cold.
Hunger, though? Ah! yes, but that could speedily be appeased.
Plaids were spread on the ground, and down they all sat, the dogs not far off, and I'm sure that the keeper, sturdy chiel though he was, felt glad to be lightened of his load.
What a jolly meal that was to be sure! With her own lady fingers the laird's wife had made that splendid pie. Pie for five and almost enough for fifty. But then, of course, there were the honest dogs to be considered, and they easily disposed of all that was left.
Bread--that is, real oatcakes--cheese, and butter followed.
The boys washed all down with a flagon of milk, but in the interests of truth, I must add that the laird and his keeper had a modest glass or two of Highland whisky.
And now, after yarning for about half an hour, sport was resumed.
Farther up the hillsides they still went, and so on and on for two whole hours.
It had been a grand day, but as the sun was now declining towards the blue blue ocean, the laird called a halt.
"I think, boys," he said, "we've done enough, and as we are nearly ten miles from home we had better be retracing our steps. Donald has as many hares as he can carry. Haven't you, Donald?"