32 WILD SPORTS OF THE HIGHLANDS chap. 



somewhere or other in war time. He then, in the most fool- 

 hardy manner, laid himself down on the hill, just where we were 

 then standing when Donald told me the story, and, by the light 

 of the moon, watched the witch leave her habitation in the cairn 

 of stones. As soon as she was gone, he went to the very 

 place which she had just left, and there lay down in ambush to 

 await her return. " 'Deed did he. Sir ; for auld Duncan was a 

 mad-like deevil of a fellow, and was feared of nothing." Long 

 he waited, and many a pull he took at his bottle of smuggled 

 whisky, in order to keep out the cold of a September night. 

 At last, when the first grey of the morning began to appear, 

 " Duncan hears a sough, and a wild uncanny kind of skirl over 

 his head, and he sees the witch hersel, just coming like a 

 muckle bird right towards him, — 'deed. Sir, but he wished 

 himsel at hame ; and his finger was so stiff with cold and fear 

 that he could na scarce pull the trigger. At last, and long, he 

 did put out (Anglic6, shoot off) just as she was hovering over 

 his head, and going to light dov/n on the cairn." Well, to cut 

 the story short, the next morning Duncan was found lying on 

 the cairn in a deep slumber, half sleep and half swoon, with his 

 gun burst, his collar-bone nearly broken, and a fine large heron 

 shot through and through lying beside him, which heron, as 

 every one felt assured, was the caillach herself "She has na 

 done much harm since yon (concluded Donald) ; but her 

 ghaist is still to the fore, and the loch side is no canny after 

 the gloaming. But, Lord guide us. Sir, what's that ? " and a 

 large long-legged hipd rose from some hollow close to the 

 loch, and having stood for a minute with her long ears standing 

 erect, and her gaze turned intently on us, she trotted slowly 

 off, soon disappearing amongst the broken ground. But where 

 are the dogs all this time ? There they are, both standing, and 

 evidently at different packs of grouse. I killed three of these 

 birds, taking a right and left shot at one dog's point, and then 

 going to the other. 



Off went Old Shot now, according to his usual habit, 

 straight to a rushy pool. I had him from a fi-iend in Ireland, 

 and being used to snipe-shooting, he preferred it to everything 

 else. The cunning old fellow chose not to hear my call, but 

 made for his favourite spot. He immediately stood, and now 

 for the first time seemed to think of his master, as he looked 



