DEER-HOUNDS 297 



deer-hounds, Bran and Oscar, to show me how they could kill 

 a stag. Malcolm himself is as fine a looking " lad " (of thirty- 

 five years old, however) as ever stepped on the heather ; a head 

 and shotilders taller than Donald, who, for this reason, and I 

 believe for no other, affects to treat his capabilities as a deer- 

 stalker with considerable contempt, always ending any descrip- 

 tion of a sporting feat of Malcolm's with the qualification, 

 " 'Twas no that bad for so long-legged a chiel as yon." 



The dogs were perfect Bran, an immense but beautifully- 

 made dog, of a light colour, with black eyes and muzzle ; his 

 ears of a dark brown, soft and silky as a lady's hand, the rest 

 of his coat being wiry and harsh, though not exactly rough and 

 shaggy like his comrade Oscar, who was long-haired and of a 

 darker brindle colour, with sharp long muzzle, but the same soft 

 ears as Bran, which, by the bye, is a distinctive mark of high 

 breeding in these dogs. Malcolm Mohr and I took no guns 

 with us ; but Donald, as usual, had his old " dooble-ha.rre\" as 

 he calls it, an ancient flint -and -steel affair; the barrels by 

 Manton, and therefore excellent when you could get them off, 

 which the stock and locks, apparently the workmanship of a 

 Highland carpenter and blacksmith, generally prevented me 

 from doing, the triggers being inaccessible to any ordinary fore- 

 finger, and the stock about half the length r f any other gun- 

 stock that ever came in my way. Donald, however, was in the 

 habit of relating great feats which he had performed amongst 

 red deer with this gun, and he always coddled it up with great 

 care from wet or damp, either when laid up in ordinary at 

 home or when carried by himself over mountain and glen. On 

 the present occasion he had a very snuffy and dirty-looking 

 cotton handkerchief tied over the muzzle, and a footless stock- 

 ing knotted over the locks, to keep out the morning mists. 



Our path for some time was along the sourse of the river, 

 where the great yellow trout were plainly to be seen in the per- 

 fectly clear water, waiting for the insects as they fell off the 

 weeping branches of the birch-trees which overhung the still 

 pools, as if admiring their own elegance in the water, where 

 every leaf was as plainly reflected as it would have been in the 

 costliest mirror ; and as we made our way up the hill-side the 

 autumnal air felt fine, fresh, and exhilarating. 



On coming out of the scattered wood which clothed the 



