REMINISCENCES OF THE LEWS. 185 



feathers of that beautiful little bird, the jack- 

 snipe, and Tom and Jock are casting away 

 merrily in the direction of the bothy, looming 

 in the distance, when on the loch, about a mile 

 from it, I see something. "Hist ! my doggies." 

 And down go father and son, as much as to 

 say, " What's in the wind now ? Haven't you 

 got enough? We are very hungry." "Tom, 

 you remember we got a wild goose there once, 

 and I see something." A little circuit, and I 

 make them out clear — wild geese ! " We must 

 wait a little longer, Tommy, till it gets dusk." 

 "Well, I suppose we must ; only don't go and 

 shoot into the shadow of the geese, as you did 

 that moonlight evening, instead of into the 

 geese themselves — eh, old fellow?" Cautiously 

 we approach, just as there is shooting light 

 enough left ; and, as We look over the bank, up 

 dash the wild geese, and we knock over three — 

 scarcely off the water — with the first barrel, 

 and one in the air with the second. " Not so 

 bad, master," says old Tom, after getting them 

 out ; " but do let us go home, for we have had a 

 long day, and done very fairly, considering." 



And we reach our bothy in time to get com- 

 fortably and leisurely dressed, dawdling over a 

 book or newspaper, for half-past six or seven 

 dinner. Jock and Tom's supper is ready, which 



