And now, here is Uig once more. The landlady just as buxom and jolly as before, though at first she did not know Creggan.
Here a good luncheon was made, and the horse fed. Then on again for many a mile, till the gray ruins of the warlike old castle of Duntulm hove in sight, the swift rolling Minch, and, far beyond, the blue hills of Harris. And yonder, too, was the hermit's isle of Kilmara.
Some distance from the sea was Nugent's bungalow, but all were at the door to meet Willie and Creggan, the sailor-boy.
Matty could talk better English now, though still a child, and just as innocent as ever. While Creggan rested on a chair under the pretty verandah, trying to answer about a hundred questions at the same time, wee Matty climbed his knee, and with one soft arm around his neck, claimed her sailor all to herself.
Then there was the visit to the manse. More welcomes there from Rory, Maggie, and Mr. M'Ian.
Oh, it is really worth going to sea for a few years, if only to receive a welcome home like this!
The sea to-day was blue and smooth, so Willie had his skiff taken down from the manse, and with Matty in the stern-sheets—-just in the dear old way—he paddled out to visit his Daddy.
That was indeed a delightful meeting, but I cannot describe it. The new dog came furious, barking at Creggan, but poor Oscar knew him at a glance, and simply went wild with joy.
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Let no one ever tell me that a dog forgets a kind master. When I myself first went to sea—in the Royal Navy—I left my beautiful collie with my mother. Not only did he know me when I returned after several years, but on the day my arrival was announced mother said to him: "Tyro, doggie, your master is coming to-day". He never left the window after that. Never ceased to watch till, afar off, he could see me. Then his impatience was unbounded till the door was opened, and he came rushing down the road to meet me.