SOME MEMORIES 319 



Fifty yards in front a sheer face of as 

 many feet of grey rock, a few ancient 

 Scots fir and ash rising from the naked 

 stone in curious fashion, their twining 

 twisted roots all exposed to view. 



Above the rocks a younger growth of 

 birch and pine, in a setting of shaggy 

 heather. Eastwards the ground falls 

 sharply from the fir-needle strewn pro- 

 montory on which I am standing, and 

 one may look down over a wide sweep 

 of moor and woodland, and follow each 

 bend of the river to far-away Dunkeld. 



Suddenly a woodcock starts into view 

 far up off the top of the rock, plunges 

 straight down, passing my head within a 

 few feet. The swish of wings effectually 

 recalls the wandering attention, but he 

 has swung round a spruce and is lost to 

 view before the gun can be brought to 

 bear. Presently a blackcock — flushed far 

 back by the still distant beaters — sails 

 overhead at a lordly height, taking no 

 notice of the salute his passage demands. 



A long pause ; a roe trips forward to 



