240 Notes on Sport and Travel i 



whatever to go upon, they will form a theory of 

 their own, and make as much mischief on the hill- 

 side as they possibly can, — ' like Christians,' as 

 Donald would say. 



Up across the moss we splash towards the great 

 outlying buttress of Ben Clebric, a brown ridge 

 some seven or eight miles long, streaked with mean- 

 dering strips of bright green, marking where the 

 mountain torrents, cutting deeply into the moss, 

 drain the soil sufficiently to permit the alpine 

 grasses to flourish. The little valleys in which these 

 patches lie are the corries where the deer love to 

 feed, and about which they are apt to lie after feed- 

 ing, particularly early in the day, before they draw 

 up to the more prominent points of the hill for 

 their afternoon's siesta. Every corrie — and there 

 are scores of them — has its name ; and the forester 

 and shepherd know them as well as a London cab- 

 man knows the streets. 



All this hill-side has to be spied most carefully, 

 as, although the wind is in the wrong airt for stags 

 to be on it, there may be a hind or two, who, if 

 disturbed, will go over the ridge and scare the deer 

 on the other side. Before our work is fairly done 

 the mist rolls down the face of the hill, wave after 

 wave, till not more than a hundred feet of the base 

 is left clear, and that becomes of a strange lurid 

 reddish-purple from the shadow on the heather, — 

 a mighty pleasant prospect for a deer- stalker ! 



However, it is barely ten o'clock, and no one 



