212 EEMINISCENCES OP THE LEWS. 



on not to be blown over — and Heaven knows 

 where, for we were on the high ridge of the 

 point over Loch Langavat. During the occa- 

 sional gleams of light that break out by fits and 

 starts in those bad days, and were signs of 

 their not improving, we got sight of a stag 

 lying on a ledge of rock, sheltered by another 

 by his side, with his head stretched out, and 

 thus lying snug. Stir we could not, and were 

 obliged at once to take to the lying-on-your- 

 face-and-stomach position, which was remark- 

 ably pleasant where we were. We lay there 

 more than an hour, and I am glad now we did, 

 for I learnt what squalls could be. I thought 

 Loch Langavat would empty itself bodily over 

 the top of Eohneval Hill. Had I not seen 

 what I did see, I could never have believed it. 

 At the expiration of an hour, or more, I rebelled, 

 and swore to Angus that lie there any longer 

 I would not, but must try a shot. He con- 

 sented to my wriggling myself a little further, 

 which I did, and got a very little more above 

 my friend. The case seemed hopeless. I had 

 nothing to shoot at, with any hope of success, 

 but the backbone towards the shoulders ; but I 

 felt that human nature could not hold on much 

 more, and that I should shortly be blown over 

 into Loch Langavat, or what remained of it, 



