"I'm going to read to you."
Sandy glanced at the book. "Not poetry, Chief!" he said with
alarm. "Surely you don't mean that!"
"It isn't just poetry," said Alan. "It's a story about Roderick
Dhu and Clan Alpine, and hunting deer in these very mountains.
You'll like it, I know."
Sandy groaned and laid his head on his arm. "Go ahead," he said
with resignation. "You're the Chief and I can't help myself."
"I'll be washing up the dishes while you read," said Jean.
"Blaze away," said Jock, who loved books as much as he disliked
work.
"It's 'The Lady of the Lake,'" Alan began.
"Oh!" snorted Sandy, to whom Walter Scott was scarcely more than
a name, "I thought it was about fighting and robbers, and things
like that, and here it's about a lady! and it's about love too, I
doubt! I wonder at you, Alan McRae!"
Alan made no reply but began to read. When he reached a line
about "Beauty's matchless eye," Sandy snored insultingly and was
promptly kicked by Jock. But when Alan reached the lines
"The stag at eve had drunk his fill
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,"
Sandy sat up and began to think the despised poem might amount to
something after all.
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