2 34 Notes on Sport and Travel i 



to the rash act. I quote from the original MSS. of 

 1837, and old Ross, of Tongue, has whispered the 

 same legends into mine own ears, long since then. 

 But here's Rory. 



' Well, what deer are there on the hill, Rory ? ' 



' 'Deed ye ken that better than mysel', for I heard 

 ye were after venaison, and no one has been on the 

 hill since I brought the sheep down last week. 

 'Deed there were deer on Corrie Venchinch, and I 

 heard your shot yestere'en, and heard it tell ; and 

 there were fine staigs about the muckle rock. Ye 

 canna fail o' sport ; but 'deed it looks gey moist.' 



Gey moist, indeed ! and the burn, high in spate, 

 not only rattles harshly at our feet, but the swish of 

 the wind brings other murmurs with it that tell of 

 water falling over rocks too rarely covered to be 

 rounded by its action. 



* It's moist up there, Rory, no doubt, though the 

 less we say about its gaiety the better.' 



A wet walk and a weary we shall have among 

 the old moss-hags before we gain the spurs of Ben 

 Clebric ; with no excitement to keep us going, 

 nothing but work to be done to gain an end, which, 

 like most of our ends, may turn out worthless when 

 gained. Up along the burn we go, following the 

 narrow sheep-track, deeply indented in the black 

 bank, crossing the sharp, slaty rocks again and 

 again, till it turns out of our course, and we have to 

 take to the splashy moor, too wet to grow heather 

 or to breed grouse, covered with tufts of coarse 



