“Ay, Miss Honnor, we’ll go and try the Small Pool, now.”

The Small Pool lies between the Long Pool and the Rock Pool; it is a circular, deep, black hole, in which the waters collect before dashing and roaring down between the great gray boulders; and to fish it you must get out on certain knife-like ledges that seem to offer anything but a secure foothold.  However, Miss Honnor did not think twice about it; and, indeed, as she made her way out on those narrow slips of rock, Lionel perceived that her boots, which were laced in front like men’s boots, if they were small enough as regarded that portion covering the foot, were provided with most sensibly wide soles, which, again were studded with nails.  And there, balancing herself as best she might, she got out a short line, and began industriously to cover every inch of the surging and whirling water.  A most likely-looking place, Lionel thought to himself, as he sat and looked on.  But here also they were doomed to disappointment.  It is true she hooked a small sea-trout—­and was heartily glad when it shook itself free, thereby saving her time and trouble.  All the rest of her labor was expended for nothing; so finally she had to reel up and make her way ashore, where she surrendered her rod to the old gillie.

Then they passed down through the narrow defile again and came in view of the wide path—­now all saffron-tinted in the evening sunlight—­with the lodge and its straggling dependencies in the midst of the plain.  Perhaps it was this sight of the house that recalled to her what they had been talking of some time before; for, as they walked along the river-bank, she was again urging him to go out on the following morning; and not only that, but she declared he must have one or two days’ deer-stalking while he was in the North.  If he missed, then he missed; why should he care what foresters and gillies thought of him?  Of course he was very grateful to her for all her kind patronage; but he could not help thinking it rather odd to find a woman lending courage to a man—­counselling him to be independent and to have no fear of ridicule.

“I recollect,” he said to her, “once hearing Lord Rockminster say that until a man has gone deer-stalking he can have no idea what extremes of misery a human being is capable of enduring.”

“Lord Rockminster is incurably lazy,” she said.  “I think if you found yourself riding along this strath some night about eight or nine o’clock, knowing that away up among the hills you had left a stag of ten or twelve points to be sent for and brought down the next morning—­then I think you wouldn’t be reflecting on the discomforts you had gone through, or, if you did, it would be with pride.  Why,” said she, “you surely didn’t come to the Highlands to play at private theatricals?”

“I get enough of the theatre in the South,” he said, “as you may well imagine.”