184 WILD FLOWERS OF SCOTLAND 



two or three hundred yards away, and the glen is 

 shelterless, save for some tumbled fragments of 

 rock, he is nowhere in view. Instead of the sullen 

 up-and-down movements of two tails, and the 

 flash from a gun barrel, the sun 



All unreflected shone 

 On bracken green, and cold grey stone. 



He has vanished into thin air, or dropped behind 

 a boulder, or lain down all his length under some 

 imperceptible rising of the ground protectively 

 coloured in his pepper-and-salt suit. And his 

 dogs play up to him. Not a hair of them is 

 to be seen. Once again he regains the advantage ; 

 and so this mountain comedy passes through its 

 several acts. 



An hour afterwards he suddenly reappears from 

 nowhere in particular. I look, and he is not ; I 

 look again, and, behold, he is within a few feet. 

 I seize the chance of asking the nearest way to 

 the hill on which the catchfly grows. This is 

 adding insult to injury. He regards me more in 

 sorrow than in anger, and solemnly warns me 

 that, so far from helping, he will stand across my 

 path. 



When he sees that the threat has not the desired 



