I must confess that there was a small hole in each of the elbows of Creggan's tweed jacket, but nevertheless when he stepped right up, as if moved by some sudden impulse and shook Matty's tiny hand, his bearing was in keeping with the action, and even Nugent himself admitted afterwards that he looked a perfect little gentleman.
"I wish you were my sister."
That is all he said.
But for the next few minutes very busy was Creggan indeed.
First and foremost he made a flag of his handkerchief and hoisted it on the end of his gun. This he waved in the air, until presently an answering signal could be seen on the distant island.
Then to right and to left, alow and aloft, he made signals with the flag, much to the delight of little blue-eyed Matty, ending all by holding his gun perpendicularly and high in air, after which he turned to his new acquaintances.
"I'm quite ready," he said.
The march towards the mountains was now commenced. But the road led past the manse, and thither ran Creggan, returning almost immediately with a tiny Shetland pony. This consequential little fellow was fully caparisoned, with not only a child's saddle but saddle-bags. Into the latter Mrs. Nugent's sketching-gear was put, and then Creggan picked Matty up and placed her on the saddle. Oscar barked, and the child screamed with joy, as off they headed for the wild mountains.
* * * * * * * * * * *
High above the blue-gray hills of Harris lay streak on streak of carmine clouds, with saffron all between, as Creggan's skiff went dancing over the waves that evening, towards his little island home. But the boy saw them not, saw nothing in fact till his boat's keel rasped upon the beach, where his foster-father stood, ready to haul her up.