CHAPTER XXI 



LOCH NAN CEALL 



Overshadowed by wild hills, round which the mist-laden 

 Atlantic wind weaves many clouds, lies a quiet sea loch. 



It is rare that any craft darkens its surface. 



Months may elapse between the visits of the small cargo 

 steamer which brings to the crofters their meal and flour 

 from the south, and apart from an occasional yacht in 

 summer time, the loch is deserted, save for the skiffs of 

 the lobster fishers, which put to sea early of a morning 

 from Gribun shore, or from the quiet Sound of Ulva. 



South'ard, the hills rise steeply to a height of more 

 than three thousand feet, with dark precipices around which 

 the silent-fiying raven croaks, and green corries where the 

 stags feed of a summer evening. 



Many burns rush swiftly from the corries of the big 

 hills to the loch. But even after days of torrential rain, 

 when they roar in full flood, the waters retain their crystal 

 clearness, for their source is on the stony plateaux and their 

 course traverses rocky ground the whole length from parent 

 spring to estuary. 



To the east there lies the mainland, with all the hill 

 country of Argyll spread out before the eye, and north 

 the desolate Isle of Ulva, and that wild headland of Tresh- 

 nish, where the Atlantic waves break in rushing spray 

 when the wind blows strong from the south-west. West- 

 ward of the loch lies the Atlantic, and away on the hori- 

 zon the Isle of Tiree. But it is only on a clear day that 

 one's vision carries thus far, and then the houses seem to 

 stand straight up from out of the water, so flat is this 

 distant island. 



