20 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



Oyster-Catcher on the River Tay at Dalguise, the 

 nipple of the old muzzle-loading 12-bore I had 

 hired blew out and cut my cheek rather badly. 

 My father, being a man of common sense, knew 

 well I would get a gun somehow or other, and so 

 gave me a beautiful little 20-bore, which, being 

 a full choke, was a fine killing weapon, and with it 

 I shot the greater part of my collection. By the 

 time I was thirteen I was a fairly experienced shot, 

 and commenced my long wanderings on the sea- 

 coasts of Scotland, roaming from Dunbar in the 

 south to Loch Erreboll in Sutherland. Three times 

 I walked the whole length of the east and north- 

 east coasts, often being forced, in getting from high- 

 water mark to the next public ground, to cross 

 moorlands where grouse and rabbits were abun- 

 dant. Often was I stopped by infuriated game- 

 keepers, but on learning my errand, that of the 

 pursuit of wild birds, and finding no game in my bag, 

 they were convinced of my innocence. They were 

 nearly always kind, and often walked for miles to 

 show me the nearest route to the next area of sands. 

 Scottish gamekeepers, as a rule, have some love for 

 Nature, and being interested in such a little chap 

 on his travels, took me to their houses and gave me 

 tea. Sometimes I slept on the floor or sofa, and 

 they never refused hospitality at night. I knew 

 in time every fisherman and longshoreman between 

 St. Andrews and Arbroath, which was my favourite 

 beat in autumn and winter, and was known to 

 them as " Johnny with the long gun." In 1880 I 

 purchased from an innkeeper in Perth a pup collie- 

 and-smooth-coated retriever mongrel, which was the 

 best and most courageous dog I have ever seen. 



