A rather curious fact must here be mentioned regarding Willie Munro, as it not only gives an additional insight to the lad’s character, but really has some bearing on future acts in our story.
Willie, then, had never forgotten that fiasco on the hill, when he loaded his gun by putting in the charge of shot first. He was a very sensitive boy, and sometimes since that day, in his dreams, he would hear Maggie May’s shrill peals of laughter, and see her merry mischievous face. Had Sandie alone been there, it would not have mattered so much, but to have made a fool of himself before a girl—ah! there was the rub. He felt at times that he almost hated Maggie May, though surely it was no fault of hers.
However, he made a vow that he would rectify the mistake. He told his father the whole story, and his father kindly acquiesced in his wishes. Willie paid a visit to a keeper who lived a little way up Deeside. A crack shot he was. The man was grooming a Lavereck setter when Willie reached his humble dwelling.
“Fat can I dee for ye, laddie?” said Bob Brown, meaning, “What can I do for you?”
“Oh,” said Willie, “I want you to teach me to shoot birds, so that I can go to the hill and not make a fool of myself.”
Bob looked him all over. He even tested his eye-sight and the quickness and steadiness of his hand.
“You’ll do,” he said. “How often can you come here?”
“Every afternoon, and I’m willing to pay fairly well.”
“Richt! in a month or sax weeks you ought to be as gweed (good) a shot as mysel’. Hae ye a gun?”
“No.”