CHAPTER XXII THE FINDHORN 



A black-headed, unshaven H ighlander having come out, 

 and kicked the dogs into some kind of quiet, we entered 

 the hut, and found two more "lads" in it, one stretched out 

 on a very rough bench, and the other busy stirring up some 

 oatmeal and hot water for their breakfast. The smoke for a 

 few moments prevented my making out what or who were 

 in the place. I held a short (very short) conversation with 

 the three shepherds, they understanding not one word of 

 English, and I understanding very few of Gaelic. But, by 

 the help of the man who accompanied me, I found out that 

 a stag or two were still in the glen, besides a few hinds. 

 The meal and water having been mixed sufficiently, it was 

 emptied out into a large earthen dish, and placed smoking 

 on the lid of a chest. Each man then produced from some 

 recess of hisplaid a longwooden spoon; whilst mycompan- 

 ion assisted in the ceremony by fetching some water from 

 the river in a bottle. They all three, then, having doffed 

 their bonnets,and raising their hands, muttered over a long 

 Gaelic grace. Then, without saying a word, set to with 

 good will at the scalding mess before them, each attacking 

 the corner of the dish nearest him, shovelling immense 

 spoonfuls down their throats; and when more than usually 

 scalded — their throats must have been as fire-proof as that 

 of the Fire King himself — taking a mouthful of the water 

 in the bottle, which was passed from one to the other for 

 that purpose. Having eaten a most extraordinary quantity 

 of the pottage, each man wiped his spoon on the sleeve of 

 his coat, and again said a grace. The small remainder was 

 then mixed with more water and given to the dogs, who 

 had been patiently waiting for their share. After they had 

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