ARDENMOIIR. 



CHAPTER I. 



ON TO THE HILLS. 



LATE one fine afternoon in July a light -built and 

 quaint -looking carriage was rattling at a good 

 pace along a narrow road in the Highlands. The 

 occupants were Hope Ward, little Fred Peyton, 

 and myself, on our way to the far hills, full of 

 pleasant anticipations of some months' sojourn in the 

 wild west. 



I had been at Ardenmohr a week or two before 

 with my friend, Major George Duncan, and who 

 remained there, while I returned south to get the 

 necessary supplies and come back with the others : 

 the Major's letters meanwhile reporting how fortu- 

 nate we were in our lease the country being 

 thoroughly savage, the natives civilised, and the 

 climate glorious. 



