From Ploughshare to Pulpit by Gordon Stables

More than once during this week Sandie M‘Crae experienced an almost irresistible longing to get back to his books. What, he could not help saying to himself, would dear old Horace and Homer the thunderer do without him? Then he remembered his promise to Rector Geddes and refrained. He knew in his own heart that the Rector really was right, for by giving the brain a complete rest, it would be all the fresher when it came to stand the test. The first part of the brain-power to get weak is the memory; and rest, and rest alone, can restore this.

So whenever Sandie longed for his books, he jumped up and went in search of Willie, who was never far away, and together they would plan some new amusement.

They marched over to the manse of Belhaven one day, for example, with their shooting-bags on their backs, and their guns upon their shoulders. The minister was delighted to see them. Yes, they had just come to the right place. There were plenty of partridges in the turnips, there were rabbits on or near the corries, and there were thousands of wild pigeons, devouring the remainder of the blaeberries on the blaeberry hill. The good minister even caused his cook to make up a delightful luncheon for them, and put in the basket two bottles of heather-ale.

"Of course," said Mackenzie, "you will want a keeper or guide."

"Shall we?"

"Oh, yes, most certainly; and I'll send you one."

He retired for that purpose.

Presently into the room marched pretty Maggie May herself, with a bag slung over her shoulder, and in her hand a tiny double-barrelled fowling-piece.

After her came her father.

"Boys," he said, smiling, "behold your keeper!"

Both lads looked astonished, but especially Willie.

"Why -- why," he ejaculated, "you never mean to say that _she_ can let a gun off?"

"She is a very good sportsman, indeed," said her father proudly. "I myself would go with you, but I am busy to-day. She knows the whereabouts of every bird on the glebe and on the hills. Trust her."

I may mention here, parenthentically, that it is by no means an uncommon thing in the Highlands of Scotland for young ladies to go to the hill with bag and gun, and I know many at this moment who are very excellent shots indeed.

"Well," continued Willie, "I _am_ astonished. In fact, I believe you could knock me down with a feather, or with a sledge-hammer anyhow. Shouldn't wonder now if Miss M‘Crae mightn't be a better shot than I am."

"Have you had much experience? " asked Mackenzie.

"Oh, quite a deal! " answered Willie seriously -- "in the ha'penny shooting-galleries, ye know. ‘Only a ha'penny a shot, and fire away; ' and ‘a great big cocoa-nut if ye rings the bell. ' I rung the bell once. It was before I took aim -- the gun just went off by chance. But of course that is a mere detail; I got the great big cocoa-nut all the same, I have it in my study till this day, labelled, ‘Won at a shooting-match."

Maggie May and her father both laughed.

"But you've never been on the hill?"

"Oh, never near it."