It was about an hour later that Hamish again came into the room.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said he, “but the men are outside.”

“I cannot see them.”

“They are ferry sorry, sir, about the whole matter, and there will be no more bathing in the front of the house, and the man Fraser they hef brought him up to say he is ferry sorry too.”

“They have brought him up?”

“Ay, sir,” said Hamish, with a grave smile.  “It was for fighting him they were one after the other because he will make a bad speech to you; and he could not fight three men one after the other; and so they hef made him come up to say he is ferry sorry too; and will you let him stay on to the end of the season?”

“No.  Tell the men that if they will behave themselves, we can go on as we did before, in peace and friendliness; but I mean to be master in this place.  And I will not have a sulky fellow like this Fraser stirring up quarrels.  He must pack and be off.”

“It will not be easy to get another man, Sir Keith,” old Hamish ventured to say.

“Get Sandy over from the Umpire.”

“But surely you will want the yacht, sir, when Mr. Ogilvie comes to Dare?”

“I tell you Hamish, that I will not have that fellow about the place.  That is an end of it.  Did you think it was only a threat that I meant?  And have you not heard the old saying that ’one does not apply plaster to a threat?’ You will send him to Gometra in the morning in time for the boat.”

And so the sentence of banishment was confirmed; and Hamish got a young fellow from Ulva to take the place of Fraser; and from that time to the end of the fishing season perfect peace and harmony prevailed between master and men.

But if Lady Macleod and Janet saw no change whatever in Macleod’s manner after his return from the South, Hamish, who was more alone with the young man, did.  Why this strange indifference to the very occupations that used to be the chief interest of his life?  He would not go out after the deer; the velvet would be on their horns yet.  He would not go out after the grouse:  what was the use of disturbing them before Mr. Ogilvie came up?

“I am in no hurry,” he said, almost petulantly.  “Shall I not have to be here the whole winter for the shooting?”—­and Hamish was amazed to hear him talk of the winter shooting as some compulsory duty, whereas in these parts it far exceeded in variety and interest the very limited low-ground shooting of the autumn.  Until young Ogilvie came up, Macleod never had a gun in his hand.  He had gone fishing two or three days; but had generally ended by surrendering his rod to Hamish, and going for a walk up the glen, alone.  The only thing he seemed to care about, in the way of out of door occupation, was the procuring of otter-skins; and every man and boy in his service was ordered to keep a sharp lookout on that stormy coast for the prince of fur-bearing animals.  Years before he had got enough skins together for a jacket for his cousin Janet; and that garment of beautiful thick black fur—­dyed black, of course—­was as silken and rich as when it was made.  Why should he forget his own theory of letting all animals have a chance in urging a war of extermination against the otter?