“I must ask you to take care that Norman does not tumble into the water, though,” said Mrs Vallery.
“I will make a line fast to the young gentleman’s leg, and soon haul him out again if he does,” answered Mr Maclean, laughing.
“I can take very good care of myself, thank you,” said Norman; “but I should like to see you catch some fish, if they are good big ones.”
“There are not finer in any loch in Scotland, but they will not always rise to the fly,” observed Mr Maclean.
As soon as luncheon was over, the laird, carrying his rod and fishing-basket, and accompanied by his two young friends, set off for the loch. On their way they were joined by Sandy Fraser, a tall, thin, old man, with grey hairs escaping from under his bonnet. Sandy had been Mr Maclean’s constant attendant from his boyhood, and had followed him to many parts of the world which he had visited before he settled down in his Highland home.
On reaching the loch, they found a boat, and Sandy took the oars. The two children were placed in the centre, Mr Maclean took his seat in the stern, and Sandy rowed away towards the further end of the loch. On one side the hills, with here and there bare, grey rocks appearing on their steep sides, rose directly out of the water, and were reflected on its calm surface.
“Why, the hills are standing on their heads,” exclaimed Norman, who for the first time in his life had witnessed such a scene.
Rowing on, they passed several pretty islands covered thickly with trees, among which, Fanny said, she should like to have a hut and live like Robinson Crusoe.
“No, I should be Robinson Crusoe, and you should be Friday,” exclaimed Norman, who knew the story, as it was in one of Fanny’s picture-books.
“Young gentleman, you should be proud of working for your sister,” observed the laird, who was busy getting his fishing-tackle ready. “It is far more manly to work for others, than to let others work for you.”