The Land of the Hills and the Glens 



crumbs which he placed on his boot, striking each other 

 comically with their paws in their efforts to obtain as large 

 a share as possible of the feast. 



An experience which this old watcher had on one occa- 

 sion was one which will bear setting down here. On a 

 certain July afternoon, after a day of sun and oppressive 

 heat, a heavy thunder-cloud gathered above the hill north 

 of the bothy. Tlie air had the stillness which often pre- 

 cedes a storm, and as the cloud lowered, twilight descended 

 on that part of the glen, although the sun still shone with 

 curious red light at the head of the pass. Without warn- 

 ing, instantaneously, a solid mass of water struck the hill- 

 top opposite the bothy with a deafening crash. A surg- 

 ing torrent immediately rushed tumultuously down the hill 

 face, leaving a deep scar — visible at the present day — and 

 bearing in its course rocks of such size as to be beyond 

 the power of man to lift. Almost at the same moment 

 a second wall of water descended on the hill near the foot 

 of which the bothy was built, the rush of water narrowly 

 missing the small habitation and its solitary and shaken 

 inmate. The storm soon passed, and the sun again shone 

 out, but the debris washed down to the foot of the glen 

 was so extensive that the river was held back, and a lochan 

 temporarily formed there. 



This veteran took his duty as watcher seriously, and 

 a stray mountaineer was accosted politely, and interrogated 

 as to whether he had "permission for the hill." The type 

 of tourist which the old hillman despised was the one 

 which imagined that the hills were free to all men. I re- 

 member well two individuals — a man and a woman — who 

 were "spied" making for the summit of a hill up which 

 no right-of-way existed. The old fellow started off in pur- 

 suit, but the climbers kept on their way at such a speed 

 that he was forced to give up the chase. On his return 

 to where I was sitting his quaint remark was, "They would 

 not stop — thev were a couple of dirty sparks." The 



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