"You should be successful in catching the
bird that is seeking to fly from that island. Your net is spread wide
enough."
"I hardly think our bird will get through the meshes," he answered,
laughingly.
In a few minutes more they were wide asunder. A peculiar smile rested on
the face of the lady, which seemed reflected from the countenances of
her attendants, but not a word was said on the subject of the recent
incident.
Their reticence continued until the rocky shores of the Isle of Skye
were reached, and the boat was put into one of the many inlets that
break its irregular contour. Silence, indeed, was maintained until they
had landed on a rocky shelf, and the boat had pushed off on its return
journey. Then Flora McDonald spoke.
"So far we are safe," she said. "But I confess I was frightfully scared
when that patrol-boat stopped us."
"You did not look so," said Betty Bruce, in a voice of masculine depth.
"I did not dare to," she answered. "If I had looked what I felt, we
would never have passed. But let us continue our journey. We have no
time to spare."
It was a rocky and desolate spot on which they stood, the rugged
rock-shelves which came to the water's edge gradually rising to high
hills in the distance.
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