2S6 Mr. Hardy on the Wolf in Scotland. 



peased, by PoUochoch producing from the folds of his ample 

 plaid — the wolf's head ! " Exclamations of astonishment and 

 admiration burst from chief and clansmen, as he held out the 

 grim and bloody head of the monster at arm's length, for the 

 gratification of those who crowded around him. ' As I came 

 through the slochk [hollow or ravine], by east the hill there,' 

 said he, as if talking of some every day occurrence, ' I fore- 

 gathered wi' the beast. My lang dog there turned him. I 

 buckled wi' him, and dirkit him, and syne whittled his craig, 

 and brought awa' his countenance, for fear he might come 

 alive again ; for they are very precarious creatures.' ^ My 

 noble PoUochoch ! ' cried the chief in ecstacy, ' the deed was 

 worthy of thee ! In memory of thy hardihood, I here bestow 

 upon thee Seannachan [or, the old field, consisting of ten 

 acres], to yield meal for thy good greyhound in all time 

 coming."* The same writer has preserved another tradition 

 of the extirpation of these fell animals in Morayshire. " The 

 last wolves existing in this district had their den in a deep 

 sandy ravine, under the Knock of Braemory, near the source 

 of the Bum of Newton. Two brothers, residing at the little 

 place of Falkirk, boldly undertook to watch the old ones out, 

 and to kill their young; and as every one had suffered more 

 or less from their depredations, the excitement to learn the 

 result of so perilous an enterprize was universal. Having 

 seen the parent animals quit their den in search of prey, the 

 one brother stationed himself as a sentinel, to give the alarm 

 in case the wolves should return, while the other threw off 

 his plaid, and, armed with his dirk, alone crawled in to 

 despatch the cubs. He had not been long in the den, when 

 the wolves were seen by the watchman hastening back to the 

 ravine. A sudden panic seized the wretched man, and he 

 fled without giving the piomised warning, and never stopped 

 till he crossed the Divie, two miles off. There, conscience- 

 stricken for his cowardice, he wounded himself in various 

 places with his dirk ; and on reaching Falkirk, he told the 

 people, who eagerly collected to hear the result of the adven- 

 ture, that his brother was killed, and that he had miracu- 

 lously escaped, wounded as he was. A shout of vengeance 

 rent the air, and each man catching up whatever weapon he 

 could lay hands on, the whole gathering set out, determined, 

 at all hazards, to recover the mutilated remains of their lost 

 friend. But, what was their astonishment, when, on reaching 



* Account of the Great Floods of August 1829, pp. 41—43. 



