A QUIET SHOT. 189 



The bay being now broken, they had a beautiful race 

 over the moor ; but the light-limbed foresters gained ground ; 

 the fugitive's pace became worse and worse ; he laboured 

 and floundered, and was at length seized, all breathless and 

 exhausted. 



" Why, how dare the like of ye to come intill his Grace's 

 forest, and steal his deer ; ye shall pay the lawin, man ?" 



" Hout-tout ! I'm nae thief ava ; it's joost for my ain 

 diversion ; but ye hae bin owre muckle wi' the Southrons ; 

 and the like o' thae chiels aye ca' 1 if tin', stealing." 



" I think I ha' heard that afore," says Donald. " What ! 

 my friend the Gown-cromb of Badenoch ? will no the 

 Lias-mor, or great Garden o' Eden content the man ? must 

 he come stalkin', and feeling the deer in the braes o' 

 Atholl ?" 



The notorious blacksmith was soon taken down to Glen 

 Tilt, and brought into presence of the Duke of Atholl : after 

 a sharp remonstrance, his Grace asked him whether he would 

 go to Perth gaol for three months, or stand a shot from his 

 rifle at a hundred paces. 



The man said he would stand the shot. 



" Very well ; John Crerer, step out a hundred yards." 



The ground was measured. 



" Now post the man with his front right towards me, and 

 give me my best rifle, John." 



The gun was given, and raised slowly, whilst the hill-men 

 stood by in a group in breathless suspense ; the direction of 

 their eyes changing alternately from his Grace to the man. 

 A long and steady aim was taken it was an awful moment, 

 but the blacksmith neither flinched nor stirred; at length 

 the cap of the rifle only exploded. 



" Pshaw ! Give me another rifle, John, and take care that 

 it be better loaded." 



The second rifle missed fire also, as well it might, it 

 having been of course arranged that there should be no 

 -charge in it. 



" Well, you are a lucky fellow, for I see your time is not 

 yet come. Give the man his fill of whiskey, John ; he does 

 not lack courage : but mark me, Master Gown-cromb, if ever 

 you come after my deer again, my rifle will not miss fire; 



