LAST DAY'S SHOOTING. 285 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



THE day for our departure is fixed, and the order 

 for breaking up our bivouac has issued ; we leave the 

 cabin to-morrow, and some of us, in course of mortal 

 changes and chances are never fated to visit it again, 

 and, " breast the keen air " of these extensive moun- 

 tains. We have all devoted this, our last day, to 

 separate pursuits. I, with my kinsman, take to the 

 hills, while the Colonel and the Priest descend the river, 

 thus embracing sports by " fell and flood." Old 

 Antony, encouraged by the report of the fishing party 

 has hobbled off at day-break with his trap and 

 terrier, determined, as he expressed it, " to try his 

 fortune once more before he died." A shepherd- 

 boy accompanied him, and when the distance and diffi- 

 culty of the ground is considered, the old man's courage 

 is surprising, and nothing but that master-passion 

 which through a long life has been remarkable could 

 nerve the otter-killer to the enterprise. 



Our last day's sport, during its forenoon, was most 

 unpromising. The birds were scarce, unsettled, and 

 " wild as hawks." From the extreme steadiness of the 

 dogs, we sometimes succeeded in surprising them ; 

 but generally, the cock took alarm, and gave the signal 

 for escape > and the brood got off with a random shot 

 or two. At last, when almost weary of following birds 

 who appeared determined not to stand a point, accident 

 did for us what neither art nor local experience could 

 achieve. 



On a narrow strip of heather, which fringed the banks 

 of a little rivulet, one of our youngest and wildest setters 



