To some casts of mind there is no aspect of nature so enchanting or
romantic as that which is presented, on a fine summer day from the
vantage ground of a ridge or shoulder high up on the mountains of one of
our western isles.
It may be that the union of the familiar and beautiful with the
unfamiliar and wild is that which arouses our enthusiastic admiration.
As we stand in the calm genial atmosphere of a summer day, surveying the
land and sea-scape from a commanding height that seems to have raised us
above the petty cares of life, the eye and mind pass like the
lightning-flash from the contemplation of the purple heather and purple
plants around--and from the home-feelings thereby engendered--to the
grand, apparently illimitable ocean, and the imagination is set free to
revel in the unfamiliar and romantic regions "beyond seas."
Some such thoughts were passing in the mind of Giles Jackman, as he
stood alone, rifle in hand, on such a height one splendid forenoon, and
contemplated the magnificent panorama.
Far down below--so far that the lowing of the red and black specks,
which were cattle, and the bleating of the white specks, which were
sheep, failed to reach him--a few tiny cottages could be seen, each in
the midst of a green patch that indicated cultivation. Farther on, a
snow-white line told where the wavelets kissed the rugged shore, but no
sound of the kiss reached the hunter's ear. Beyond, as if floating on
the calm water, numerous rocky islets formed the playground of
innumerable gulls, skarts, seals, loons, and other inhabitants of the
wild north; but only to the sense of vision were their varied activities
perceptible. Among these islets were a few blacker spots, which it
required a steady look to enable one to recognise as the boats of
fishermen; but beyond them no ship or sign of man was visible on the
great lone sea, over, and reflected in which, hung a few soft and
towering masses of cloudland.
"If thus thy meaner works are fair,
And beautiful beyond compare;
How glorious must the mansions be
Where Thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee!"
Jackman murmured rather than spoke the words, for no human ear was there
to hear. Nevertheless there were human ears and tongues also, not far
distant, engaged in earnest debate. It was on one of the ledges of the
Eagle Cliff that our hunter stood. At another part of the same cliff,
close to the pass where Milly Moss met with her accident, Allan Gordon
stood with nearly all his visitors and several of his retainers around
him.
"Higher up the pass you'll have a much better chance, Mr Barret. Is it
not so, Ivor?"
The keeper, who, in kilt, hose, and bonnet, was as fine a specimen of a
tall athletic Highlander as one could wish to see, replied that that was
true.
"Nae doot," he said, "I hev put Mr Jackman in the best place of all,
for, whativer way the deer come, they'll hev to pass close, either above
or below him--an' that's maybe as weel for him wi' his queer
new-fashioned rifle; but at the heed o' the pass is the next best place.
The only thing is that ye'll hev to tak' sure aim, for there's more
room for them to stray, an' ye may chance to git only a lang shot."
"Well, then, it is not the place for me, for I am a poor shot," said
Barret; "besides, I have a fancy to stay here, where I am. You say it
is a very good spot, Ivor, I understand?"
"Weel, it's no' that bad as a spote," answered the keeper, with a grim
smile, for he had not much opinion of Barret's spirit as a sportsman;
"but it's ackward as the lawnd lies."
"Never mind. I'll stay here, and you know, laird, that I have some
pleasant associations with it in connection with your niece."
"That is more than Milly has," returned the old gentleman, laughing.
"However, have your way. Now, gentlemen, we must place ourselves
quickly, for the beaters will soon be entering the wood. I will take
you, Mr Mabberly, to a spot beyond the pass where you will be pretty
sure of a shot. And MacRummle--where shall we place him?"
"He can do nothing wi' the gun at a', sir," muttered the keeper, in a
low voice, so that he might not be overheard. "I wad putt him doon at
the white rock. He'll git a lang shot at them there. Of course he'll
miss, but that'll do weel enough for him--for he's easy pleased; ony
way, if he tak's shootin' as he tak's fishin', a mere sight o' the deer,
like the rise o' a salmon, 'll send him home happy."
"Very well, Ivor, arrange as you think best. And how about Captain
McPherson and McGregor?"
"I'll tak' care o' them mysel', sir."
"Ye need na' fash yer heed aboot us, laird," said the skipper. "Bein'
more used to the sea than the mountains, we will be content to look on.
Iss that not so, Shames?"
"That iss so--what-e-ver," returned the seaman.
"Well, come along then; the beaters must be at work now. How many did
you get, Ivor?"
"I'm not exactly sure, sir," returned the keeper; "there's Ian Anderson
an' Tonal' from Cove, an' Mister Archie an' Eddie, an' Roderick--that's
five. Oo, ay, I forgot, there's that queer English loon, Robin Tips--
he's no' o' much use, but he can mak' a noise--besides three o' Mr
Grant's men."
"That's plenty--now then--"
"Please, father," said Junkie, who had listened with open eyes and
mouth, as well as ears, for this was his first deer-stalk, "may I stop
with Mr Barret?"
"Certainly, my boy, if Mr Barret does not object."
Of course Mr Barret did not object, though he was rather surprised at
this mark of preference.
"I say, me boy," whispered Pat Quin, "ask av I may stop wid ye."