CHAPTER THREE THE GROUSE 



gave me three shots. From the top of the hill we saw a 

 dreary expanse of flat ground, with Lochan-na-cailleaich* 

 in the centre of it,a bleak cold-looking pieceof water, with 

 several small grey pools near it. Donald told me a long 

 story of the origin of its name, pointing out a large cairn of 

 stones at one end of it. The story was, that some few years 

 ago — " Not so long either. Sir (said Donald); for Rory Beg, 

 the auld smuggler, that died last year, has often told me, 

 that he minded the whole thing weel" — there lived down 

 below the woods an old woman, by habit and repute a 

 witch, and one possessed of more than mortal power, which 

 she used in a most malicious manner, spreading sickness 

 and death amongman and beast. The minister of the place, 

 who came, however, but once a month to do duty in a 

 building called a chapel, was the only person who, by dint 

 of prayer and Bible, could annoy or resist her. He at last 

 made her so uncomfortable by attacking her with holy 

 water and other spiritual weapons, that she suddenly left 

 the place, and no one knew where she went to. It soon be- 

 came evident, however, that her abode was not far off, as 

 cattle and peoplewere still taken ill in the same unaccount- 

 able manner as before. At last, an idle fellow, who was out 

 poaching deer near Lochan-na-cailleaich late one evening, 

 saw her start through the air from the cairn of stones to- 

 wards the inhabited part of the country. This put people 

 on the lookout, and she was constantly seen passing to and 

 fro on her unholy errands during the fine moonlight nights. 

 Many a time was she shot at as she flew past, but without 

 success. At last a pot-valiant and unbelieving old fellow, 



*The witch's tarn. — Ed. 



37 



