WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
woke the echoes in the glen, and set the surfaces 
of the pool dancing. The heron dashed from 
his perch, and the shot whistled harmlessly over 
his head. 
" Damn it ! what was that ? " growled the 
keeper. cc It was too big for a fish." 
The ripples subsided gently, but he suddenly 
became aware that there was one old tree stump 
less on the opposite bank. There was a blanched 
spot on the grass whence a stone had been 
recently lifted, and close by he stumbled over 
the peg of a night-line. The keeper realized 
that more than one poacher had escaped scot- 
free that night ; but the Corr iasc never sus- 
pected who had saved him. 
IV 
In the angle of the mountain where Slieve 
Corrig curved down to meet the lower Slieve 
Gar, there was a little lake where the mountain 
sheep and foxes went to drink, and which re- 
flected nothing else from week's end to week's 
end except clouds and stars, unless the Corr iasc 
went fishing there. In the still November 
mornings, when the valleys were so brimful of 
mist that only the tops of the higher hills stood 
out like islands, the smoke from Andy Hogan's 
chimney rose straight up the hillside almost to 
228 
