LEGEND OF FRASERS CAIRN. 235 



" Donald, however, by a sudden and violent exertion' 

 contrived to extricate himself from their clutches, and to 

 get a start over the moor ; but being encumbered with the 

 cords, which were still about him, was almost instantly over- 

 taken and slain. 



" A party of the Atholl men then clad themselves in the 

 tartans of the men they had killed ; and, easily making out 

 the track (for the day was now dawning), followed their 

 invaders in a right line, whilst their chief force was kept 

 out of sight in the rear. They soon discovered the Frasers 

 on a swell of the moor before them, but not on the highest 

 point of the ground. They seemed to be regaling them- 

 selves with their booty, whilst their horses were grazing 

 around them. 



" The Atholl men now sent their main force to the west- 

 ward by the river Bruar, with instructions for them to come 

 over the hill in the rear of their foes, and fall upon them at 

 a concerted signal. The smaller party, exactly similar in 

 number to those that the Lord of Lovat had sent forth to 

 kill the cock, clad in their tartans, were mistaken for his own 

 men, till of a sudden the wild whoop and whistle peculiar 

 to the clan in their onsets discovered the fatal truth. The 

 foes came upon them at once in their front and rear, and a 

 hot conflict ensued. The Lord of Lovat, who was a heavy 

 man, was slain whilst calling for his horse. Very few 

 escaped the slaughter, and the Atholl men returned 

 victorious with the reclaimed booty. The Frasers were 

 buried on the spot where the cairn now stands which bears 

 their name ; and the country people, who dare approach it 

 in the dead of night, assert that they often hear the spirit 

 of Lord Lovat calling for his horse his horse !" 



The deer were now urged on in beautiful style from the 

 Beg of Cairn Dairg. It was like the passage of a little 

 army as their files drew on ; some were lost in the hollows 

 re-appearing, and again sinking out of sight amidst the 

 mazes of the moor. Nothing could be more picturesque 

 than their undulating course; nothing more gratifying than 

 to reckon the horns marked firmly on the sky line as they 

 passed over the summits. 



One hart there was amongst the rest that might be known 



