CHAP.THIRTY-FOUR DEERHOUNDS 



where, on a former occasion, I had discovered that they riv- 

 alled the celebrated plague of Egypt in number and power 

 of tormenting. My two attendants, Donald and Malcolm, 

 slept somewhere near me, as I heard them talking till a 

 very late hour, probably consulting about their plans of 

 attack for the next day. 



Before the sun was above the heathery brae which was 

 to the east of us, I looked out and saw the opposite mount- 

 ain tops already lighted up, and illuminated in the most 

 beautiful and fanciful manner — the glare catching the pro- 

 jecting peaks and angles, and throwing the other parts of 

 the rocks and heights into the deepest shade. Donald was 

 sitting on a stone, rubbing his eyes and his gunlocks alter- 

 nately with his ancient "pocket napkin," as he called it. 

 Malcolm and the shepherd were leaning against the corner 

 of the house chattering Gaelic, while the rather pretty wife 

 of the latter, bare-headed and bare-legged, was coming 

 over from the cow-byre with a tin pail of fresh and frothing 

 milk. "I hope your honour slept weel ; I'll be taking your 

 breakfast ben the house directly," said pretty Mrs Young. 

 The two hounds were yawning and stretching themselves 

 in front of the door, and received me with a joyful though 

 rough welcome. Bran putting his front paws on my shoul- 

 ders, and Oscar almost knocking me down by running and 

 rubbing against my legs. The shepherd's two colley-dogs 

 were standing down at the burn side with their tails be- 

 tween their legs, barking and howling at their unusual 

 four-legged visitors, who occasionally looked, first at the 

 colleys and then at me, as much as to say, "Shall we 

 punish their impertinence,or not.-'" One word of encourage- 

 443 



