A PTARMIGAN DAY. 221 



or a solitary old cock would rise within shot, but 

 I prevented all unnecessary loading of the game- 

 bag by carrying an empty gun. 



The heather at last began to merge into green 

 patches, and the granite boulders became more 

 frequent. In place of starting up singly at inter- 

 vals, the alpine hares showed in threes and fours 

 on all the adjacent knolls, and in their midst was 

 the fox's cairn, where the last spring litter had 

 been destroyed. 



Towering before me in solitary majesty, its 

 crown of granite gleaming in the autumn sun, the 

 sharp peaks and beetling scaurs of Ben Loy gave 

 proof that the day's labour was only about to 

 begin. The deceptive intervening heights and 

 hollows made the mountain appear close before 

 me, but there was still a good extent of ragged 

 grass -ground between my stand -point and the 

 first steep pull, which was really the base of the 

 hill. This ground, blending into grass from 

 heather, was a favourite resort of stray deer from 

 the Black Mount Forest, so I took a resting sur- 

 vey, meaning to profit by it the next opportunity. 

 There were only, however, a few scattered sheep 



