"Good-day to ye," responded Adam. "We'll likely shift camp before you're this way."
"In so short a time?" exclaimed Louis.
"In so lang a time. I'm soul-sick of it. It's lone; it's heavy. The fine's too great for the pleasure of the feight. Look, now,—there were two rough laddies up Glazka way, in my country, and they came to fists aboot a sweethairt, the fools. But when they are stripped and ready, one hits the table wi's hond, and says he, 'Ay, Georgie, I'm wullin' to feight ye, but wha's goin' to pay the fine?'"
Louis Satanette laughed again, but as if he did not know just what was meant."
"It's a cautious mon, is the Scotchmon," said Adam, "but no' so slow, after all."
"Oh, never slow!" said Louis. "Very, very fast indeed, to leave this paradise in the midst of the summer."
"'Farewell to lovely Loch Achray,'" sighed Adam:
"Where shall we find, in any land,
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand?"
Louis made a sign of adieu and dipped his oars.
"It's only au revoir," said he, shooting past. "Be very, very far from parting with Magog too early."