142 



A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER 



and so unvarying and featureless the pall it hung around 

 us that we seemed, not to pass through it, but to bear 

 it with us. We moved encircled by a curtain of cloud 

 which kept pace with our advance. Rarely, it was wafted 

 aside for a moment, revealing a heath-clad slope in front, 

 only to close in on us again, swiftly and silently, when 

 the light wind had passed. It did not entirely isolate 

 us. Though impenetrable to the eye, it left the ear 

 in communication with an outer world. We saw 

 nothing save the blank, white wall, but the air was 

 filled with sound ; with one sound, the saddest in all 

 nature, the plaintive bleating of unhappy ewes lament- 

 ing the removal of their young. 



As we toiled painfully and 

 slowly upward, we were occa- 

 sionally aware of other signs of 

 life. Now a sheep, startled by 

 our sudden intrusion on the soli- 

 tude, sprang aside from our path 

 and, with a whistle of alarm, 

 disappeared from view ; now a 

 grouse-cock, unwarned of our 

 approach — the grouse seems 

 to possess a defective sense of 

 hearing — hurled himself from 



