He looked from the one to the other as he spoke.
“What ails you? What ails you both, boys? Speak.”
“Well!” said Rory, “then the truth is this, that the same thought is running through both our two minds at once. And there is only one way out of the trouble. We won’t go with you, there! We won’t go in your yacht, in your yacht. Mind you, Ralph, dear boy, I say we won’t go in your yacht.”
“That’s it,” said Allan, repeating Rory’s words; “we won’t go in your yacht.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Ralph, right heartily. Then he jumped to his feet, and smilingly doffing his cap, “I respect your Celtic pride, gentlemen,” he said. “It shall not be my yacht. It shall be our yacht, and we’ll go shares in expenses.”
“Spoken like men, every one of you,” roared McBain, no longer able to restrain himself. “I’m proud of my boys. Indeed, indeed, old McBain is proud of his pupils.”
And he shook hands with them all round. This is Highland fashion, you know, reader.
They spent fully four hours longer on that cliff-top; they had so much to talk of now, for new prospects were opening out before them, and they determined to try at least to turn them to good account.
The sun was setting ere they reached their little vessel once again, and prepared to turn in for the night.