1 6 ECHOES OF SPORT 



land, jealous lest their secrets should be re- 

 vealed to human eyes. The silence, too, added 

 to the dream, as if it held the world in the 

 hollow of its hand. Unbroken it was, till the 

 " Go back, go back " of the grouse, or a faint 

 human whistle pierced it like an arrow. Even 

 the " pop " of a twenty-bore echoed with a 

 deep voice not its own. 



Nothing is so full of quiet life as a still 

 January day on a Scottish moorland. The 

 month should be January, which it was, for 

 the feeling of winter's depth should be passed, 

 yet it must still be winter, and only the far- 

 away thought of spring in the heart. To com- 

 plete the charm there must be snow on the 

 ground. To trace the marks on it is to read 

 the life of the moor's beasts and birds. 



There are the countless runs of the moun- 

 tain hares ; judging by the well-trodden path 

 there must be hundreds of them. The smaller 

 ones of the rabbits. Many claw tracks are 

 there too, big and small. Occasionally in the 

 snow there is a straight track of a pointed 

 foot, divided in soft O's, is it the fox ? And 



