CHAPTER XXVI THE MUCKLE HART 



SUNDA F.— This evening, Malcolm, the shep- 

 herd of the shealing at the foot of Benmore, re- 

 turning from church, reported his having crossed 

 in the hill a track of a hart of extraordinary size; 

 and he guessed it must be "the muckle stag of Benmore." 

 This was an animal seldom seen, but which had long been 

 the talk and marvel of the shepherds for its wonderful size 

 and cunning. They love the marvellous, and in their report 

 "the muckle stag" bore a charmed life; he was unapproach- 

 able and invulnerable. I had heard of him too, and, having 

 got the necessary information, resolved to try to break the 

 charm, though it should cost me a day or two. 



Monday. — This morning at sunrise, I with my rifle, 

 Donald carrying my double-barrel, and Bran, took our way 

 up the glen to the shealing at the foot of Benmore. Donald 

 had no heart for this expedition. He is not addicted to su- 

 perfluous conversation, but I heard him mutter something 

 of a "feckless errand — as good deer nearer hame." Bran 

 had already been the victor in many a bloody tussle with 

 hart and fox. We held for the most part up the glen, but 

 turning and crossing to seek every likely corrie and burn 

 on both sides. I shot a wild cat, stealing home to its cairn 

 in the earlymorning; and we several times in the day came 

 on deer, but they were hinds with their calves, and I was 

 bent on higher game. As night fell, we turned down to the 

 shealing rather disheartened; but the shepherd cheered me 

 by assuring me the hart was still in that district, and de- 

 scribing his track, which he said was like that of a good- 

 sized heifer. Our spirits were quite restored by a meal of 

 fresh-caught trout, oat-cake and milk, with a modicum of 

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