Angus pointed to the end of his telescope, which peeped out of his bosom. Murdoch peevishly observed, that Angus seemed to see and hear more than anybody in all the range of the islands. “Very likely, as to the seeing,” replied Angus, “for there is not such another glass as this in all the islands, I fancy. I thank my old friend, the surveyor, for it every time I use it,—that is, every day of my life.” “What do you want with Mr. Callum?” asked Murdoch, abruptly. “What matters it to you?” answered Angus, looking steadily at him. “I take your wages for doing your work, but I am not answerable to you for my private affairs.” “O, certainly; I only asked because I must go with you to-morrow. I want to see Mr. Callum, too.” “Surely,” said Angus kindly, “you are not strong enough for the sea yet; and besides, Mr. Callum may not be near the shore, and there may be miles to walk to overtake him. Let me do your business when I do my own.” Murdoch laughed scornfully at this proposal, and yet more, when Angus offered to persuade Mr. Callum to come to Garveloch. The farmer was bent on making the attempt, and was not deterred by the dreary weather of the next morning. They landed in Scarba before they supposed that Mr. Callum would have left his bed, but found that he intended to embark early from the opposite side of the island, after having slept in the interior, and that if they wished to reach him, they must take horse, and proceed as fast as possible. There was but one horse to be had; and Murdoch, weary as he already was, would not lose sight of Angus for an instant. He insisted on mounting behind him, and thus, they set off. The roughness of the roads, and of the horse’s pace, irritated Murdoch, as every untoward circumstance, however trifling, was apt to do at present. From being sullen, he became rude, surly, and passionate, till Angus began to consider what mode of treatment would bring his companion to his senses. “Take heed how you ride, I say, Angus. If you can bear jogging to pieces, I can’t.” “The road is terribly rough indeed, neighbour; but we shall find an even reach when we have turned yon point.” “Even! do you call this even?” cried Murdoch at the end of a quarter of an hour, when they began to descend a steep. “I did not answer for more than the reach we have passed, neighbour; and, what is more, neither that nor this was of my making.” “But it was of your choosing; and never tell me that there is no better road than this across Scarba. You chose it to revenge yourself on me because you could not make me stay behind.” “You’re mistaken, neighbour.” “Mistaken! I mistaken! Stop the horse, Angus; stop him this minute! I won’t ride another step with you.” “Do you mean that you wish to be set down?” asked Angus, who thought he now saw a way to tame his companion. “Do you wish to get off here?” “To be sure—this moment, this very moment. I won’t ride another step with you.”