cn A r. v.J BIVOUAC IN SNOW. 47 



If snow is on the ground, they first scrape it off a small space ; 

 they then all collect a quantity of the driest heather they can 

 find. The next step is for all the party excepting one to lie 

 down close to each other, with room between one couple for the 

 remaining man to get into the rank when his duty is done ; 

 which is, to lay all the plaids on the top of his companions, and 

 on the plaids a quantity of long heather; when he has sufficiently 

 thatched them in, he creeps into the vacant place, and they are 

 made up for the night. The coldest frost has no effect on them, 

 when bivouacking in this manner. Their guns are laid dry be- 

 tween them, and their dogs share their master's couch. 



With the earliest grouse-crow they rise and commence opera- 

 tions. Their breakfast consists of meal and water. They gene- 

 rally take a small bag of meal with them ; but it is seldom that 

 there is not some good-natured shepherd living near their day's 

 beat, who, notwithstanding that he receives pay for keeping off 

 or informing against all poachers, is ready to give them milk and 

 anything else his bothy affords. If the shepherd has a peculiarly 

 tender conscience, he vacates the hut himself on seeing them 

 approach, leaving his wife to provide for the guests. He then, 

 if accused of harbouring and assisting poachers, can say in excuse, 

 " Deed, your honour, what could a puir woman do against four 

 or five wild Hieland lads with guns in their hands ?" In fact, the 

 shepherds have a natural fellow-feeling with the poachers, and, 

 both from policy and inclination, give them any assistance they 

 want, or leave their wives and children to do so ; and many a side 

 of red deer or bag of grouse they get for this breach of promise 

 to their masters. In the winter season a poacher calls on the 

 shepherd, and says, " Sandy, lad, if you look up the glen there, 

 you'll see a small cairn of stones newly put up ; just travel twenty 

 paces east from that, and you'll find a bit venison to yoursel' " 

 some unlucky deer having fallen to the gun of one of the poach- 

 ing fraternity. This sort of argument, as well as the fear of 

 " getting a bad name, " is too strong for the honesty of most of 

 the shepherds, who are erroneously supposed to watch the came, 

 and to keep off trespassers. The keepers themselves in the 

 Highlands, as long as the poachers do not interfere too much 

 with their master's sport, so as to make it imperative on them to 

 interfere, are rather anxious to avoid a collision with these 



