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Updated: May 2, 2025
"By all means; as many as the boat will hold," returned the laird. It was finally arranged that, besides those already mentioned, Mabberly, Jackman, MacRummle, Quin, the three boys, Roderick the groom, and Ian Anderson, as boatman in charge, should cross over to the little church at Drumquaich, about eight miles distant by water.
"Mr MacRummle," he said firmly, "will you do me a favour?" "Certainly, with pleasure if I can." "You can and you shall. It is this: change places and rifles with me." "My dear, kind sir, you don't know what you ask. My rifle is an old double-barrel muzzle loader, and at the white rock you wouldn't have the ghost of a chance.
Returning at a swift pace by the road they had come, they soon reached Kinlossie, where the laird drove into the back yard, so as to deliver the still dripping MacRummle at the back door, and thus prevent his leaving a moist track from the front hall to his bedroom.
Perseverance was, however, the strong point in the old man's character if it had a strong point at all. He replaced the glasses perpetually, and kept pointing persistently. He did little more than point, because the thing that he pointed at, whatever it was, usually got out of the way before MacRummle obtained a reliable aim.
"Mac, that will suit your taste, I know," cried the host with a laugh. "Yes, it will," slowly returned MacRummle, whose ruddy face and smooth bald head seemed to glow with satisfaction now that he had got into dry garments. "Yes, I'm almost as fond of pie as my old friend Robinson used to be.
"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."
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