26 COKRACH-BAH j OB, 



Johnny's complaining that the boat was drifting back, 

 fairly gave in. I had always relieved the old man when 

 we had to cross the loch, or go quickly past bad fishing- 

 ground, upon which occasions I used to hear Johnny 

 taunting him. When I took the oar, Sandy always had 

 his revenge, by " You've met your match noo, lad." 

 Since it was impossible to fish any of the way back, I 

 dried niy lines along the shore, and determined to enjoy 

 the lonely walk to the inn. The road for some miles was 

 a steep mountain-track, which seemed only fitted for a 

 flock of goats. On some parts of this dismal region the 

 sun seldom shines, and on others scarce a ray penetrates 

 all the winter. The whole hill was studded with 

 ragged rocks and stones, and a more dreary path could 

 hardly be imagined: gloomy without grandeur. Slowly 

 we plodded to accommodate old Sandy, whose short breath 

 effectually stopped his wild legends. 



We had nearly gained the summit, from which there 

 is a charming view of the loch, when Johnny, who had 

 sauntered on a few paces before, stopped suddenly, and 

 pointing to a little bing of stones " This is the Tinkler's 

 Cairn." " Deed, no,"" says Sandy, with an air of superior 

 knowledge ; " I'll show the Tinkler's Cairn." And stump- 

 ing on a few paces further, " This is the very bit where 

 the tinkler was murdered." I felt a thrill of horror. A 

 more appropriate place for a deed of blood could not have 

 been chosen ; it looked like haunted ground, so bleak 

 and bare and lonely, with its stern rocks of perpetual 

 gloom. After carefully examining the little cairn of stones, 



