THE FINAL SHOT. 193 



in our front, and, just as we discovered them to be 

 deer, plunged into the depths of the ravine. We sent 

 all our bullets flying after them, as a parting volley to 

 the forest, but they served only to awake the echoes of 

 the cliffs around. 



We had now about nine miles between us and home, 

 and, there being no moon, it was momently becoming 

 darker. The walking therefore proved most difficult 

 and fatiguing, from the roughness of the ground, and 

 the impossibility of seeing at all where we were going. 



Before reaching home, we had waded seven times 

 through the Redburn, running in one or two places so 

 rapidly that we only retained our footing by all three 

 clinging to each other, and thus presenting our united 

 strength to its force. Several times we had to make 

 our way down the steep sides of cliffs, feeling with our 

 hands before every fresh footstep, where one blunder 

 might have hurled us to destruction. 



On the whole therefore, the recollection of that 

 night's march will not be among the most agreeable 

 of my Highland reminiscences. We reached home 

 thoroughly done up, and uncheered by the pleasure of 

 success. Two days after, we bade adieu to the hos- 

 pitable roof of our friend the Laird, who, as well as 

 the rest of his family, had treated us with a liberality 

 and consideration which will not easily be effaced 

 from our memory, and which stamped him as a true 

 eon of the land where of old not even the poorest 

 peasant closed his door at night till he had first stood 

 before his threshold, and looked to the four quarters 

 of the heavens, if haply he might see a stranger whom 

 he could welcome to his hearth. 



