"Huh, huh."

"Indeed, you are not too dry," said Ranald, feeling his wet shirt and
trousers, "and your mother will be wondering."

"I'll tell her," said Hughie, in a tone of exulting anticipation.

"What!" Ranald stood dead still.

"I'll tell her," replied Hughie. "She'll be awful glad. And she'll be
awful thankful to you, Ranald."

Ranald looked at him in amazement.

"I think I will jist be going back now," he said, at length. But Hughie
seized him.

"Oh, Ranald, you must come with me."

He had pictured himself telling his mother of Ranald's exploit, and
covering his hero with glory. But this was the very thing that Ranald
dreaded and hated, and was bound to prevent.

"You will not be going to the Deepole again, I warrant you," Ranald
said, with emphasis.

"Not go to the Deepole?"

"No, indeed. Your mother will put an end to that sort of thing."