“A fluke? I think not.”
No one there had such quick eyes as Willie, for in five minutes more he repeated his first exploit, and a short time afterwards he did the same again.
As Mackenzie and the others looked so thoroughly and completely astonished, Willie was forced to laugh aloud.
“Oh, you humbug!” cried Sandie. “Why you’re a crack shot, you rascal, and that episode of loading the gun was got up to deceive us!”
“Look! look!” This from Willie, as two splendid ptarmigans rose from the ground.
Mackenzie and Willie fired a barrel each, and both birds fluttered groundwards.
Well might Willie smile. He had established his fame as a good shot, and completely wiped out the stain from his character as a sportsman.
On and on all that forenoon went the party, no one seeming to feel the least tired. But towards two o’clock they began to feel hungry, if they did not feel tired, for the air among these Highland hills is keen and bracing. So Stuart spread plaids on the snow, and down they all sat to one of the most delightful luncheons ever partaken of by hungry huntsmen. It was now nearly three o’clock, and the winter’s sun was rapidly nearing the pine forest on the rugged shores south of the Don. So all haste was made back to the trap, Sandie assisting Stuart in carrying the hares and birds. As they mounted the trap to drive back to the manse, everybody agreed that they had spent a glorious day.
Willie, nevertheless, confessed to being tired.
“Well,” said Sandie, “we’ll forgive you for that; but, O Willie, what a trick you played us!”