Did I say "all departed"? What an awkward thing it is to be possessed of a conscience! I have one which, whenever I deviate in the slightest degree from the straight lines of truth, brings me up with a round turn.
Well, all did not depart, for the corn-beef--let us say--had flown to the legs and to the heads of half a dozen jolly fellows at least, and they determined that they wouldn't go home till morning.
So they had some more toddy, sang "Auld Lang Syne", and then retreating to the rear of the barn, curled up amongst the straw and were soon fast asleep.
So ended the great curling match of Glenvoie.
CHAPTER V.--A HIGHLAND BLIZZARD--THE LOST SHEEP AND SHEPHERD.
It must not be supposed for a single moment that although the boys M'Vayne liked fun and adventure in their own wild land, just as you or I or any other boys do, reader, their education was neglected. Quite the reverse, in fact. For at the time our tale commences, both had just returned from the High School of Edinburgh, where they had studied with honour, and carried off many prizes.
One of Duncan's pet studies had been and still was--navigation. Not only of a theoretical kind, but thoroughly practical.
He had long since made up his mind to become a sailor, and he had left no stone unturned to learn the noble art of seamanship.
For this purpose he had prevailed upon his father to let him take several cruises in a barque plying between Leith and Hull. So earnest was Duncan, and so willing was both skipper and mate of this craft to teach him, that in a very short time he was not only up to every rope and stay, but could take both the latitude and longitude as well as could be desired.
He did all he could to put his brother up to the ropes also.