Part 10 (1/2)

”Better, much better than we could have expected. Of course the arm is inflamed and very painful, but not broken, which is almost a miracle, considering the height from which she fell. But for you, Mr Barret, she might have lain there for hours before we found her, and the consequences might have been very serious. As it is, the doctor says she will probably be able to leave her room in a few days.”

”Come, now, Mac,” continued the host, ”we have been talking over plans for the day. What do you intend to do?”

”Try the river,” said the old gentleman, with quiet decision, as he slowly helped himself to the ham and egg that chanced to be in front of him. ”There's a three-pounder, if not a four, which rose in the middle pool yesterday, and I feel sure of him to-day.”

”Why, Mr MacRummle,” said Mrs Gordon smilingly, ”you have seen that three-pounder or four-pounder every day for a month past.”

”I have, Mrs Gordon; and I hope to see him every day for a month to come, if I don't catch him to-day!”

”Whatever you do, Mac, don't dive for him,” said the laird; ”else we will some day have to fish yourself out of the middle pool. Have another cut of salmon, Mr Mabberly. In what direction do your tastes point?”

”I feel inclined to make a lazy day of it and go out with your son Archie,” said Mabberly, ”to look at the best views for photographing. I had intended to photograph a good deal among the Western Isles, this summer; but my apparatus now lies, with the yacht, at the bottom of the sea.”

”Yes, in company with my sixteen-shooter rifle,” said Giles Jackman, with a rueful countenance.

”Well, gentlemen, I cannot indeed offer you much comfort as regards your losses, for the sea keeps a powerful hold of its possessions; but you will find my boy's camera a fairly good one, and there are plenty of dry plates. It so happens, also, that I have a new repeating rifle in the house, which has not yet been used; so, in the meantime, at all events, neither of you will suffer much from your misfortunes.”

It was finally arranged, before breakfast was over, that MacRummle was to go off alone to his usual and favourite burn; that Jackman and Quin, under the guidance of Junkie, should try the river for salmon and sea-trout; that Barret, with ex-Skipper McPherson, Shames McGregor, Robin Tips, Eddie Gordon, the laird's second son--a boy of twelve--and Ivor, the keeper--whose recoveries were as rapid as his relapses were sudden--should all go off in the boat to try the sea-fis.h.i.+ng; and that Bob Mabberly, with Archie, should go photographing up one of the most picturesque of the glens, conducted by the laird himself.

As it stands to reason that we cannot accompany all of these parties, we elect to follow Giles Jackman, Quin, and Junkie up the river.

This expedition involved a preliminary walk of four miles, which they all preferred to being driven to the scene of action in a dog-cart.

Junkie was a little fellow for his age, but remarkably intelligent, active, bright and strong. From remarks made by various members of the Gordon family and their domestics, both Jackman and his servant had been led to the conclusion that the boy was the very impersonation of mischief, and were more or less on the look out for displays of his propensity; but Junkie walked demurely by their side, asking and replying to questions with the sobriety of an elderly man, and without the slightest indication of the latent internal fires, with which he was credited.

The truth is, that Junkie possessed a nature that was tightly strung and vibrated like an Aeolian harp to the lightest breath of influence. He resembled, somewhat, a pot of milk on a very hot fire, rather apt to boil over with a rush; nevertheless, he possessed the power to restrain himself in a simmering condition for a considerable length of time. The fact that he was fairly out for the day with two strangers, to whom he was to show the pools where salmon and sea-trout lay, was a prospect so charming that he was quite content to simmer.

”D'ee know how to fish for salmon?” he asked, looking gravely up in Jackman's face, after they had proceeded a considerable distance.

”Oh, yes, Junkie; I know how to do it. I used to fish for salmon before I went to India.”

”Isn't that the place where they shoot lions and tigers and--and g'rillas?”

”Well, not exactly lions and gorillas, my boy; but there are plenty of baboons and monkeys there, and lots of tigers.”

”Have you shot them?” asked Junkie, with a look of keen interest.

”Yes; many of them.”

”Did you ever turn a tiger outside in?”

Jackman replied, with a laugh, that he had never performed that curious operation on anything but socks--that, indeed, he had never heard of such a thing being done.

”I knew it was a cracker,” said Junkie.

”What d'you mean by a cracker, my boy?” inquired Jackman.

”A lie,” said Junkie, promptly.

”And who told the cracker?”