xxxiv THE SHEPHERD'S HUT 305 



as well to show myself, or I firmly believe the man would have 

 gone mad. I never saw a poor fellow more relieved in my life 

 than he was on seeing that his persecutors were mere flesh and 

 blood like himself, and not spirits of the air or flood as he 

 had imagined. Having laughed at him for his fright, and 

 appeased his somewhat reasonable anger, we found out from 

 him that this stag was constantly about the same place, and had 

 got so accustomed to seeing the shepherd pass to and fro, that 

 he invariably returned to the same glen within a few hours. 



It was getting late, so we postponed attacking him till 

 the next morning. The shepherd also told us that, although 

 the stag had not particularly fine antlers, he was one of the 

 heaviest and largest deer that had been in that part of the 

 country for some years. He knew him by his large track, and 

 also by his colour, which was peculiarly light. We accompanied 

 Willie Young home to his domicile ; and having taken our 

 frugal supper of porridge and milk, followed, however, by some 

 whisky-and-water of no mean flavour and strength, which Mr, 

 Young informed us in confidence had been made by some 

 " lads down the glen yonder," we retired to our sleeping-places. 

 For my own part, I took up my quarters in the building dignified 

 by the name of barn, where, rolled in my plaid, and burrowed 

 in the straw, I slept free from the ten thousand nightly visitants 

 called fleas, which would have eaten me up in Willie Young's 

 house, where, on a former occasion, I had discovered that they 

 rivalled the celebrated plague of Egypt in number and power 

 of tormenting. My two attendants, Donald and Malcolm, 

 slept somewhere near me, as I heard them talking till a very 

 late hour, probably consulting about their plans of attack for 

 the next day. 



Before the sun was above the heathery brae which was to 

 the east of us, I looked out and saw the opposite mountain 

 tops already lighted up, and illuminated in the most beautiful 

 and fanciful manner — the glare catching the projecting peaks 

 and angles, and throwing the other parts of the rocks arid 

 heights into the deepest shade. Donald was sitting on a stone, 

 rubbing his eyes and his gunlocks alternately with his ancient 

 " pocket napkin," as he called it. Malcolm and the shepherd 

 were leaning against the corner of the house chattering Gaelic, 

 while the rather pretty wife of the latter, bare-headed and bare- 



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