HEATHER ALE. 



Artair than Campbell in them ; but they wore Gilleas- 

 buig Gruamach's tartan, and if they were not on 

 Gilleasbuig Gruamach's errand, it makes little differ- 

 ence on our story. It was about the time Antrim and 

 his dirty Irishers came scouring through our glens 

 with flambeaux, dirk and sword and other arms 

 invasive, and the country was back at its old trade 

 of righting, with not a sheiling from end to end, 

 except on the slopes of Shira Glen, where a clan 

 kept free of battle and drank the finest of Heather 

 ale that the world envied the secret of." 



Headed by the famous Niall Mor a' Chamais 

 the same gentleman named in story for many an art 

 and the slaughter of the strongest man in the world 

 they met the MacKellars, the possessors of the secret, 

 at the Foal's Gap, past Maam. 



"Ay!" said Calum Dubh, "but it's my secret. I 

 had it from one who made me swear on the holy 

 steel to keep it; but take me to Carnus and I'll make 

 you the Heather ale. But there's this in it, I can 

 look no clansmen nor kin in the face after telling 

 it, so Art and Uileam must be out of the way first." 



"Death, MacKellar?" 



"That same." 



Niall Mor intrusted the work to John-Without- 

 Asking. "He put a hand on each son's back and 

 pushed them over the edge to their death below. One 

 cry came up to the listening Diarmaids, one cry and 

 no more the last gasp of a craven. 



"Now we'll take you to Carnus and you'll make 

 us the ale, the fine ale, the cream of rich Heather 

 103 



