THE MUCKLE HART OF BENMORE. 251 



THE MOUNTAIN FOX. 



disappointed for the moment, and Donald soon joined me, 

 much crest fallen, and cursing the stag in a curious variety 

 of Gaelic oaths. Still it was something to have seen ' the 

 muckle stag,' and nil desperandum was my motto. We had 

 a long and weary walk to Malcolm's sheiling ; and I was glad 

 to get to my heather-bed, after arranging that I should occupy 

 the hiding-place Malcolm had prepared near the dead sheep 

 next morning. 



" Wednesday. After dispatching the plundering eagles in 

 fine style, our hero and his redoubted gillie again set forth in 

 quest of ' the muckle hart.' Our line of march to-day was 

 over ground so high, that we came repeatedly into the midst 

 of ptarmigan. On the very summit, Bran had a rencontre 

 with an old mountain fox, toothless, yet very fat, which he 

 made to bite the dust. We struck at one place the tracks 

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

 We kept exploring corrie after corrie till night fell ; and as 

 it was in vain to think of returning to the sheiling, 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 

 almost filled it with long heather, flower upwards, we wrapped 

 our plaids around us, and slept pretty comfortably. 



