The Land of the Hills and the Glens 



sky, so that there seemed every prospect of a clear day to 

 follow. Towards noon, however, a grey cloud appeared 

 on the northern horizon ; snow began to fall, and continued 

 without intermission for forty-eight hours, accompanied by 

 a whole gale from the north. A number of stalkers went to 

 the hill on that particular morning, but though many of 

 them had to fight hard to regain their homes, they all 

 succeeded in reaching them safely before dark. It was, all 

 the same, fortunate for them that the northerly wind had 

 for some days previous to the advent of the great storm 

 brought frost and snow squalls to the hill country, so that 

 the hinds had left the higher grounds for the shelter of 

 the woods of veteran Scots firs, and were thus in more 

 accessible quarters than is usually the case. 



In spring the stalker's work takes him rarely to the 

 high ground, except, maybe, to kindle a hillside where the 

 heather is, to his way of thinking, too long to afford 

 the best grazing for his deer, and it is not until the 

 latter end of August that the heaviest work of the year 

 begins. 



Day by day, before the "gentlemen" are astir, the 

 stalker is closely scanning the corries through his glass, 

 and day after day, perhaps under a blazing sun, with 

 no breath of air to cool the hillsides, perhaps in a 

 heavy storm of rain and snow, he is abroad on the high 

 grounds. 



The Highland stalker sees many a fine sight during his 

 expeditions to the high hills. He sees, maybe, the battle 

 between the sun and the mists, or, again, the coming of 

 the cold north wind to the hills — the north wind which 

 drives irresistibly the fine weather before it, and which 

 settles down on the hill-tops, carrying with it cloud and 

 impenetrable gloom. He sees, too, the black eagle — the 

 "lolaire Dubh " of the hillman — and round the eagle he 

 weaves many stories. 



Fiona Macleod related how a Highland shepherd gave 



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