CHAPTER XXVI THE MUCKLE HART 



deer, but of the animals themselves we saw nothing. We 

 keptexploringcorrie after corrie till night fell; andasitwas 

 in vain to think of returning to the shealing, which yet was 

 the nearest roof, we were content to find a sort of niche in 

 the rock, tolerably screened from all winds; and having al- 

 most filled it with long heather, flower upwards, we wrap- 

 ped our plaids round us, and slept pretty comfortably. 



Thursday. — Adip in the burn belowourbivouac renov- 

 ated me. I did not observe that Donald followed my ex- 

 ample in that; but he joined me in a hearty attack on the vi- 

 ands which still remained in our bag; and we started with 

 renewed courage. About mid-day we came on a shealing 

 beside a long narrow loch, fringed with beautiful weeping 

 birches, and there we found means to cook some grouse 

 which I had shot to supplyour exhausted larder. The shep- 

 herd, who had "no Sassenach," cheered us by his report of 

 "thedeer"beinglatelyseen,anddescribinghis usual haunts. 

 Donald was plainly getting disgusted and home-sick. For 

 myself, I looked upon it as my fate that I must have that 

 hart; so on we trudged. Repeatedly,that afternoon, we came 

 on the fresh tracks of our chace,but still he remained invis- 

 ible. As it got dark, the weather suddenly changed, and I 

 was glad enough to let Donald seek for the bearings of a 

 "whisky bothie"which he had heard of at our last stopping- 

 place.While he was seeking for it the rain began to fall heav- 

 ily, and through the darkness we were just able to distin- 

 guish a dark object, which turned out to be a horse. "The 

 lads with the still will no be far off," said Donald. And so it 

 turned out. But the rain had increased the darkness so m uch, 

 that we should have searched in vain if I had not distin- 

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