[Contents]CHAPTER XXV.Wild Scottish Bisons—Fight with a Bull—Cold and Fatigue.Sir Patrick Hepborne and the page, followed by Mortimer Sang and the rest of the party, rode slowly on after their savage guides, along sideling paths worn in the steep acclivities of the mountains, by the deer, wild bisons, and other animals then abounding in the wilderness of Scotland. The fir forests appeared endless; the trees were of the most gigantic stature, and might have been of an age coeval with that second creation that sprang up over the surface of the renovated and newly-fructified earth, after the subsiding waters had left their fertilising mud behind them. Long hairy moss hung streaming from their lateral branches, which, dried by the lack of air and moisture, occasioned by the increasing growth of the shade above, had died from the very vigour of the plant they were[185]attached to. As Hepborne beheld the two mountaineers striding before them in their rough attire, winding among those enormous scaly trunks, or standing on some rocky point above, leaning against one of them, to wait for the slow ascent of himself and party, he could not help comparing them with those vegetable giants, and indulging his fancy in the whimsical notion that they were as two of them, animated and endowed with the powers of locomotion. The ground they travelled was infinitely rough and varied in surface, hills and hollows, knolls, gullies, rivers, and lakes; but all was forest, never-ending forest. Sometimes, indeed, they crossed large tracks of ground, where, to open a space for pasture, or to banish the wolves, or to admit a more extended view around for purposes of hunting, or perhaps by some accidental fire, the forest had been burnt. There the huge trunks of the trees, charred black by the flames, and standing deprived of everything but a few of their larger limbs, added to the savage scenery around.Before entering one of these wastes, in a little plain lying in the bottom of a valley, where the devastation had been arrested in its progress by some cause before it had been carried to any great extent, their guides descried a herd of the wild bisons, which were natives of Scotland for ages after the period we are now speaking of. The animals were feeding at no very great distance, and the mountaineers were instantly all eagerness to get at them. Pointing them out to Hepborne, they made signs that he and his party should halt. He complied with their wishes; and they immediately secured their dogs to the trees, to prevent the risk of giving any premature alarm, and, setting off with inconceivable speed through the skirting wood that grew on the side of the mountain, were soon lost to view. Hepborne kept his eye on the herd. They were of a pure milk-white hue, and, as the sun was reflected from their glossy hides, they appeared still more brilliant, from contrast with the blackened ruins of the burnt pines among which they were pasturing. At their head was a noble bull with a magnificent mane.As Hepborne and the page were admiring the beauty and symmetry of this leader of the herd, noting the immense strength indicated by the thickness and depth of his chest with the lightness and sprightliness of his head, and his upright and spreading horns, of a white rivalling that of ivory in lustre, and tipt with points of jet black, they observed a fat cow near to him suddenly fall to the ground, by an arrow from the covert of the trees, while another having been lodged in his flank at[186]the same moment, he started aside, and bounded off in a wide circuit with great swiftness, and the whole herd, being alarmed, darted after him. Out rushed the mountaineers from their concealment, and, making for the wounded cow, soon despatched her with their spears.They then attempted to creep nearer to the herd, and even succeeded in lodging more than one arrow in the bull; but as none of them took effect in a vital part, they only served to madden the animal. He turned, and, ere they wist, charged them with a fury and speed that left them hardly time to make their escape. They ran towards the place where Hepborne and his party were concealed, and, just as the knight moved forward into the open ground, they succeeded in getting up into trees. Sir Patrick’s manœuvre had the desired effect in checking the attack of the bisons, for they stopped short in the middle of their career, gazed at the party, and then, led by the bull at their head, again galloped off in a wide circle, sweeping round a second time towards the knight, and coming to a sudden stand beyond bow-shot. After remaining at rest for some minutes, with their heads all turned towards the party, the bull began pawing the ground and bellowing aloud, after which he charged forward the half of the distance, and then halted.Hepborne, seeing him thus detached from his followers, put his lance in the rest, and was preparing to attack him; but just as he was rising in his stirrup, and was about to give his horse the spur, the page, with a countenance pale as death, and a hand trembling with apprehension, seized his bridle-rein, and looking anxiously in his face—“Do not peril thy life, Sir Knight,” said he—“do not, I beseech thee, peril thy life against a vulgar beast, where thou canst gain no honour; do not, for the sake of the blessed Virgin—do not essay so dangerous and unprofitable an adventure.”“Pshaw,” said Hepborne, vexed with the notion that the boy was betraying pusillanimity; “is that the face, are those the looks, and is that the pallid hue of fear thou dost mean to put on as the proofs of thy fitness for deeds of manhood and warlike encounter?”The page dropped his head, ashamed and hurt by his master’s chiding; but still he did not let go the rein—“Nay, Sir Knight,” said he calmly, “I did but argue that thy prowess, shown upon a vile brute, were but lost. Rather let me attempt to attack yonder salvage; he better befits mine[187]unpractised arm than thine honoured lance, which hath overthrown puissant knights.”“Tush, boy,” said Sir Patrick, somewhat better pleased to see the spirit that lurked in the youth, “thou art much too young, and thine arm is as yet too feeble to fit thee for encounter with yonder huge mass of thews and muscles. Stand by, my dear boy, and let me pass.”He gave the palfrey the spur, and sprang forward against the bull. The page couched his slender lance, to which a pennon was attached, and bravely followed the knight in the charge, as fast as his palfrey could gallop. The bull, seeing Hepborne coming on him, bellowed aloud, and, putting down his nose to the ground, he shut his eyes, and darted forward against his assailant. Hepborne wheeled his horse suddenly out of his way, and, with great adroitness, ran his lance through him as he passed him. But his manœuvre, though manifesting excellent judgment, and admirable skill and horsemanship, had nearly proved fatal to the page, whose palfrey, coming up in a straight line behind that of the knight, and seeing the bull coming directly upon him, sprang to the side, and by that means unhorsing the boy, left him lying on the ground, in the very path of the infuriated beast. In agony from his wound, the creature immediately proceeded to attack the youth with his horns. But the page having kept hold of his spear, with great presence of mind, ran its point, with the flapping pennon attached to it, right into the animal’s eyes. The creature instantly retreated a few steps, and before he could renew his attack he was overpowered by the knight and his party, who immediately surrounded him, and was killed by at least a dozen spear-thrusts at once. A general charge was now made against the rest that still stood at a distance, crowded together in a knot; when the whole of them, wheeling suddenly round, galloped off with the utmost swiftness, and were lost in the depths of the forest.Hepborne leaped from his horse and ran anxiously to assist Maurice de Grey, who still lay on the ground, apparently faint from the fall he had had, and perhaps, too, partly from the alarm he had been in. He raised him up, upon which the boy burst into tears.“Art thou hurt, Maurice?” demanded Hepborne, with alarm.“Nay,” said the boy, “I am not hurt.”“Fye on thee, then,” said Hepborne; “let not tears sully the glory thou has but now earned by thy manly attempt in so boldly riding to my rescue. Verily thou wilt be a brave lad[188]anon. Be assured, my beloved boy,” continued he, as he warmly embraced him, “I feel as grateful for thine affectionate exertions in my behalf as if I now owed my life to them. But dry up thy tears, and let them not henceforth well out so frequently, lest thy manhood and courage may be questioned.”“Nay, Sir Knight,” said the boy, “these are not the tears of cowardice; they are the tears of gratitude to heaven for thy safety; and methinks they are less dishonourable to me,” continued he, with an arch smile of satisfaction, “since I see that thine own manly cheek is somewhat moistened.”Hepborne said no more, but turned away hastily, for he felt that what the boy said was true. He had experienced very great alarm for Maurice’s life, and the relief he received by seeing him in safety, operating in conjunction with the thought that the danger the page had thrown himself into had been occasioned by a mistaken zeal to defend him from the bull, grappled his generous heart, and filled his eyes with a moisture he could not restrain.The two mountaineers proceeded to skin the animals, a work which they performed with great expertness; then cutting off the finer parts of the flesh, and carefully extracting the tallow, they rolled them up in the hides; and each lifting one of them on his brawny shoulders, proceeded on their journey, after allowing their hungry dogs to gorge themselves on the remainder.The knight and his party were now led up some of those wild glens which bring down tributary streams to the river Dee, and they gradually began to climb the southern side of that lofty range of mountains separating its valley from that of the Spey. They soon rose above the region of forest, and continued to ascend by zigzag paths, where the horses found a difficult and precarious footing, and where the riders were often compelled to dismount. The fatigue to both men and animals was so great, that some of the latter frequently slipped down, and were with great labour recovered from the hazard they were thrown into. At length, after unremitting and toilsome exertions, they found themselves on the very ridge of the mountain group, from which they enjoyed a view backwards over many leagues of the wild but romantic country they had travelled through during the previous day.They now crossed an extensive plain, the greatest part of which was covered with a hardened glacier, while two high tops reared themselves, one on either side, covered with glazed snow, that reflected the sunbeams with dazzling brightness. The passage across this stretch of table-land was difficult, the horses[189]frequently slipping and often falling, till, at length, they came suddenly on the edge of a precipice, whence they looked down into one of the most sublime scenes that nature can well present.The long and narrow trough of the glen, bounded on both sides by tremendously precipitous rocks, rising from a depth that made the head giddy to overlook it, stretched from under them in nearly a straight line, for perhaps six or seven miles, being cooped in between the two highest points of the Grampians. The bottom of the nearer and more savage part of this singular hollow among the mountains was so completely filled with the waters of the wild Loch Avon, as to leave but little shore on either side, and that little was in most places inclined in a steep slope, and covered with mountainous fragments, that had fallen during a succession of ages from the overhanging cliffs. A detachment of pines, from the lower forests, came straggling up the more distant part of the glen, and some of them had even established themselves here and there in scattered groups, and uncouthly-shaped single trees, along the sides of the lake, or among the rocks arising from it. The long sheet of water lay unruffled amidst the uninterrupted quiet that prevailed, and, receiving no other image than that of the sky above, assumed a tinge of the deepest and darkest hue. The glacier they stood on, and which hung over the brow of the cliff, gave rise to two very considerable streams, which threw themselves roaring over the rocks, dashing and breaking into an infinite variety of forms, and shooting headlong into the lake below.The sun was now sinking rapidly in the west, and night was fast approaching. The great elevation they had gained, and the solitary wilderness of alpine country that surrounded them, almost excluded the possibility of any human habitation being within their reach. Hepborne became anxiously solicitous for the page Maurice de Grey, who had for a considerable time been manifesting excessive fatigue. Their dumb guides seemed to stand as if uncertain how to proceed, and Hepborne’s anxiety increased. He endeavoured to question them by signs, as to where they intended the party to halt for the night. With some difficulty he succeeded in making them understand him, and they then pointed out a piece of green ground, looped in by a sweep of the river, that escaped from the farther end of the lake. The spot seemed to be sheltered by surrounding pine trees, and wore in every respect a most inviting aspect. But if they had been endowed with wings and could have taken the flight of eagles from the region of the clouds where they then were, the distance must have been five or six miles. Taking[190]into calculation, therefore, the immense circuit they must make with the horses in order to gain the bottom of the glen beyond the lake, which must necessarily quadruple the direct distance, together with the toilsome nature of the way, Sir Patrick saw that Maurice de Grey must sink under the pressure of fatigue before one-twentieth part of it could be performed. He was therefore thrown into a state of the utmost perplexity, for the cold was so great where they then were, that it was absolutely impossible they could remain there during the night, without the risk of being frozen to death.One of the guides, observing Hepborne’s uneasiness and doubt, approached him, and pointed almost perpendicularly downwards to a place near the upper end of the lake, where the masses of rock lay thickest and hugest. The knight could not comprehend him at first, but the man, taking up two or three rough angular stones, placed them on the ground close to each other in the form of an irregular circle, everywhere entire except in one point, where the space of about the width of one of them was left vacant; and then, lifting up a stone of a cubical shape, and of much greater size, he placed the flat base of it on the top of the others, so as entirely to cover them and the little area they enclosed. Having made Hepborne observe that he could thrust his hand in at the point where the circle had been left incomplete, and that he could move it in the cavity under the flat base of the stone, he again pointed downwards to the same spot he had indicated near the upper end of the lake, and at last succeeded in calling Hepborne’s attention to one of the fallen crags, much larger than the rest, but which, from the immensity of the height they were above it, looked liked a mere handful. The guide no sooner saw that the knight’s eye had distinguished the object he wished him to notice, than he turned and pointed to the mimic erection he had formed on the ground, and at length made him comprehend that the fallen crag below was similarly poised, and afforded a like cavernous shelter beneath it. At the same time he indicated a zigzag path that led precipitously down the cliffs, like a stair among the rocks, between the two foaming cataracts. This was altogether impracticable for the horses, it is true, but it was sufficiently feasible, though hazardous enough, for active pedestrians. The guide separated Hepborne and Maurice de Grey from the rest of the party, and then, pointing to the men and horses, swept his extended finger round from them to the distant green spot beyond the end of the lake; and this he did in such a manner as to make the knight at once understand he meant to propose that the party[191]should proceed thither by a circuitous route, under the guidance of his companion, whilst he should himself conduct Hepborne and his already over-fatigued page directly down to the Sheltering Stone below, where they might have comfortable lodging for the night. He further signified to Hepborne that the horses might be brought for a considerable way up the lake to meet him in the morning.
[Contents]CHAPTER XXV.Wild Scottish Bisons—Fight with a Bull—Cold and Fatigue.Sir Patrick Hepborne and the page, followed by Mortimer Sang and the rest of the party, rode slowly on after their savage guides, along sideling paths worn in the steep acclivities of the mountains, by the deer, wild bisons, and other animals then abounding in the wilderness of Scotland. The fir forests appeared endless; the trees were of the most gigantic stature, and might have been of an age coeval with that second creation that sprang up over the surface of the renovated and newly-fructified earth, after the subsiding waters had left their fertilising mud behind them. Long hairy moss hung streaming from their lateral branches, which, dried by the lack of air and moisture, occasioned by the increasing growth of the shade above, had died from the very vigour of the plant they were[185]attached to. As Hepborne beheld the two mountaineers striding before them in their rough attire, winding among those enormous scaly trunks, or standing on some rocky point above, leaning against one of them, to wait for the slow ascent of himself and party, he could not help comparing them with those vegetable giants, and indulging his fancy in the whimsical notion that they were as two of them, animated and endowed with the powers of locomotion. The ground they travelled was infinitely rough and varied in surface, hills and hollows, knolls, gullies, rivers, and lakes; but all was forest, never-ending forest. Sometimes, indeed, they crossed large tracks of ground, where, to open a space for pasture, or to banish the wolves, or to admit a more extended view around for purposes of hunting, or perhaps by some accidental fire, the forest had been burnt. There the huge trunks of the trees, charred black by the flames, and standing deprived of everything but a few of their larger limbs, added to the savage scenery around.Before entering one of these wastes, in a little plain lying in the bottom of a valley, where the devastation had been arrested in its progress by some cause before it had been carried to any great extent, their guides descried a herd of the wild bisons, which were natives of Scotland for ages after the period we are now speaking of. The animals were feeding at no very great distance, and the mountaineers were instantly all eagerness to get at them. Pointing them out to Hepborne, they made signs that he and his party should halt. He complied with their wishes; and they immediately secured their dogs to the trees, to prevent the risk of giving any premature alarm, and, setting off with inconceivable speed through the skirting wood that grew on the side of the mountain, were soon lost to view. Hepborne kept his eye on the herd. They were of a pure milk-white hue, and, as the sun was reflected from their glossy hides, they appeared still more brilliant, from contrast with the blackened ruins of the burnt pines among which they were pasturing. At their head was a noble bull with a magnificent mane.As Hepborne and the page were admiring the beauty and symmetry of this leader of the herd, noting the immense strength indicated by the thickness and depth of his chest with the lightness and sprightliness of his head, and his upright and spreading horns, of a white rivalling that of ivory in lustre, and tipt with points of jet black, they observed a fat cow near to him suddenly fall to the ground, by an arrow from the covert of the trees, while another having been lodged in his flank at[186]the same moment, he started aside, and bounded off in a wide circuit with great swiftness, and the whole herd, being alarmed, darted after him. Out rushed the mountaineers from their concealment, and, making for the wounded cow, soon despatched her with their spears.They then attempted to creep nearer to the herd, and even succeeded in lodging more than one arrow in the bull; but as none of them took effect in a vital part, they only served to madden the animal. He turned, and, ere they wist, charged them with a fury and speed that left them hardly time to make their escape. They ran towards the place where Hepborne and his party were concealed, and, just as the knight moved forward into the open ground, they succeeded in getting up into trees. Sir Patrick’s manœuvre had the desired effect in checking the attack of the bisons, for they stopped short in the middle of their career, gazed at the party, and then, led by the bull at their head, again galloped off in a wide circle, sweeping round a second time towards the knight, and coming to a sudden stand beyond bow-shot. After remaining at rest for some minutes, with their heads all turned towards the party, the bull began pawing the ground and bellowing aloud, after which he charged forward the half of the distance, and then halted.Hepborne, seeing him thus detached from his followers, put his lance in the rest, and was preparing to attack him; but just as he was rising in his stirrup, and was about to give his horse the spur, the page, with a countenance pale as death, and a hand trembling with apprehension, seized his bridle-rein, and looking anxiously in his face—“Do not peril thy life, Sir Knight,” said he—“do not, I beseech thee, peril thy life against a vulgar beast, where thou canst gain no honour; do not, for the sake of the blessed Virgin—do not essay so dangerous and unprofitable an adventure.”“Pshaw,” said Hepborne, vexed with the notion that the boy was betraying pusillanimity; “is that the face, are those the looks, and is that the pallid hue of fear thou dost mean to put on as the proofs of thy fitness for deeds of manhood and warlike encounter?”The page dropped his head, ashamed and hurt by his master’s chiding; but still he did not let go the rein—“Nay, Sir Knight,” said he calmly, “I did but argue that thy prowess, shown upon a vile brute, were but lost. Rather let me attempt to attack yonder salvage; he better befits mine[187]unpractised arm than thine honoured lance, which hath overthrown puissant knights.”“Tush, boy,” said Sir Patrick, somewhat better pleased to see the spirit that lurked in the youth, “thou art much too young, and thine arm is as yet too feeble to fit thee for encounter with yonder huge mass of thews and muscles. Stand by, my dear boy, and let me pass.”He gave the palfrey the spur, and sprang forward against the bull. The page couched his slender lance, to which a pennon was attached, and bravely followed the knight in the charge, as fast as his palfrey could gallop. The bull, seeing Hepborne coming on him, bellowed aloud, and, putting down his nose to the ground, he shut his eyes, and darted forward against his assailant. Hepborne wheeled his horse suddenly out of his way, and, with great adroitness, ran his lance through him as he passed him. But his manœuvre, though manifesting excellent judgment, and admirable skill and horsemanship, had nearly proved fatal to the page, whose palfrey, coming up in a straight line behind that of the knight, and seeing the bull coming directly upon him, sprang to the side, and by that means unhorsing the boy, left him lying on the ground, in the very path of the infuriated beast. In agony from his wound, the creature immediately proceeded to attack the youth with his horns. But the page having kept hold of his spear, with great presence of mind, ran its point, with the flapping pennon attached to it, right into the animal’s eyes. The creature instantly retreated a few steps, and before he could renew his attack he was overpowered by the knight and his party, who immediately surrounded him, and was killed by at least a dozen spear-thrusts at once. A general charge was now made against the rest that still stood at a distance, crowded together in a knot; when the whole of them, wheeling suddenly round, galloped off with the utmost swiftness, and were lost in the depths of the forest.Hepborne leaped from his horse and ran anxiously to assist Maurice de Grey, who still lay on the ground, apparently faint from the fall he had had, and perhaps, too, partly from the alarm he had been in. He raised him up, upon which the boy burst into tears.“Art thou hurt, Maurice?” demanded Hepborne, with alarm.“Nay,” said the boy, “I am not hurt.”“Fye on thee, then,” said Hepborne; “let not tears sully the glory thou has but now earned by thy manly attempt in so boldly riding to my rescue. Verily thou wilt be a brave lad[188]anon. Be assured, my beloved boy,” continued he, as he warmly embraced him, “I feel as grateful for thine affectionate exertions in my behalf as if I now owed my life to them. But dry up thy tears, and let them not henceforth well out so frequently, lest thy manhood and courage may be questioned.”“Nay, Sir Knight,” said the boy, “these are not the tears of cowardice; they are the tears of gratitude to heaven for thy safety; and methinks they are less dishonourable to me,” continued he, with an arch smile of satisfaction, “since I see that thine own manly cheek is somewhat moistened.”Hepborne said no more, but turned away hastily, for he felt that what the boy said was true. He had experienced very great alarm for Maurice’s life, and the relief he received by seeing him in safety, operating in conjunction with the thought that the danger the page had thrown himself into had been occasioned by a mistaken zeal to defend him from the bull, grappled his generous heart, and filled his eyes with a moisture he could not restrain.The two mountaineers proceeded to skin the animals, a work which they performed with great expertness; then cutting off the finer parts of the flesh, and carefully extracting the tallow, they rolled them up in the hides; and each lifting one of them on his brawny shoulders, proceeded on their journey, after allowing their hungry dogs to gorge themselves on the remainder.The knight and his party were now led up some of those wild glens which bring down tributary streams to the river Dee, and they gradually began to climb the southern side of that lofty range of mountains separating its valley from that of the Spey. They soon rose above the region of forest, and continued to ascend by zigzag paths, where the horses found a difficult and precarious footing, and where the riders were often compelled to dismount. The fatigue to both men and animals was so great, that some of the latter frequently slipped down, and were with great labour recovered from the hazard they were thrown into. At length, after unremitting and toilsome exertions, they found themselves on the very ridge of the mountain group, from which they enjoyed a view backwards over many leagues of the wild but romantic country they had travelled through during the previous day.They now crossed an extensive plain, the greatest part of which was covered with a hardened glacier, while two high tops reared themselves, one on either side, covered with glazed snow, that reflected the sunbeams with dazzling brightness. The passage across this stretch of table-land was difficult, the horses[189]frequently slipping and often falling, till, at length, they came suddenly on the edge of a precipice, whence they looked down into one of the most sublime scenes that nature can well present.The long and narrow trough of the glen, bounded on both sides by tremendously precipitous rocks, rising from a depth that made the head giddy to overlook it, stretched from under them in nearly a straight line, for perhaps six or seven miles, being cooped in between the two highest points of the Grampians. The bottom of the nearer and more savage part of this singular hollow among the mountains was so completely filled with the waters of the wild Loch Avon, as to leave but little shore on either side, and that little was in most places inclined in a steep slope, and covered with mountainous fragments, that had fallen during a succession of ages from the overhanging cliffs. A detachment of pines, from the lower forests, came straggling up the more distant part of the glen, and some of them had even established themselves here and there in scattered groups, and uncouthly-shaped single trees, along the sides of the lake, or among the rocks arising from it. The long sheet of water lay unruffled amidst the uninterrupted quiet that prevailed, and, receiving no other image than that of the sky above, assumed a tinge of the deepest and darkest hue. The glacier they stood on, and which hung over the brow of the cliff, gave rise to two very considerable streams, which threw themselves roaring over the rocks, dashing and breaking into an infinite variety of forms, and shooting headlong into the lake below.The sun was now sinking rapidly in the west, and night was fast approaching. The great elevation they had gained, and the solitary wilderness of alpine country that surrounded them, almost excluded the possibility of any human habitation being within their reach. Hepborne became anxiously solicitous for the page Maurice de Grey, who had for a considerable time been manifesting excessive fatigue. Their dumb guides seemed to stand as if uncertain how to proceed, and Hepborne’s anxiety increased. He endeavoured to question them by signs, as to where they intended the party to halt for the night. With some difficulty he succeeded in making them understand him, and they then pointed out a piece of green ground, looped in by a sweep of the river, that escaped from the farther end of the lake. The spot seemed to be sheltered by surrounding pine trees, and wore in every respect a most inviting aspect. But if they had been endowed with wings and could have taken the flight of eagles from the region of the clouds where they then were, the distance must have been five or six miles. Taking[190]into calculation, therefore, the immense circuit they must make with the horses in order to gain the bottom of the glen beyond the lake, which must necessarily quadruple the direct distance, together with the toilsome nature of the way, Sir Patrick saw that Maurice de Grey must sink under the pressure of fatigue before one-twentieth part of it could be performed. He was therefore thrown into a state of the utmost perplexity, for the cold was so great where they then were, that it was absolutely impossible they could remain there during the night, without the risk of being frozen to death.One of the guides, observing Hepborne’s uneasiness and doubt, approached him, and pointed almost perpendicularly downwards to a place near the upper end of the lake, where the masses of rock lay thickest and hugest. The knight could not comprehend him at first, but the man, taking up two or three rough angular stones, placed them on the ground close to each other in the form of an irregular circle, everywhere entire except in one point, where the space of about the width of one of them was left vacant; and then, lifting up a stone of a cubical shape, and of much greater size, he placed the flat base of it on the top of the others, so as entirely to cover them and the little area they enclosed. Having made Hepborne observe that he could thrust his hand in at the point where the circle had been left incomplete, and that he could move it in the cavity under the flat base of the stone, he again pointed downwards to the same spot he had indicated near the upper end of the lake, and at last succeeded in calling Hepborne’s attention to one of the fallen crags, much larger than the rest, but which, from the immensity of the height they were above it, looked liked a mere handful. The guide no sooner saw that the knight’s eye had distinguished the object he wished him to notice, than he turned and pointed to the mimic erection he had formed on the ground, and at length made him comprehend that the fallen crag below was similarly poised, and afforded a like cavernous shelter beneath it. At the same time he indicated a zigzag path that led precipitously down the cliffs, like a stair among the rocks, between the two foaming cataracts. This was altogether impracticable for the horses, it is true, but it was sufficiently feasible, though hazardous enough, for active pedestrians. The guide separated Hepborne and Maurice de Grey from the rest of the party, and then, pointing to the men and horses, swept his extended finger round from them to the distant green spot beyond the end of the lake; and this he did in such a manner as to make the knight at once understand he meant to propose that the party[191]should proceed thither by a circuitous route, under the guidance of his companion, whilst he should himself conduct Hepborne and his already over-fatigued page directly down to the Sheltering Stone below, where they might have comfortable lodging for the night. He further signified to Hepborne that the horses might be brought for a considerable way up the lake to meet him in the morning.
CHAPTER XXV.Wild Scottish Bisons—Fight with a Bull—Cold and Fatigue.
Wild Scottish Bisons—Fight with a Bull—Cold and Fatigue.
Wild Scottish Bisons—Fight with a Bull—Cold and Fatigue.
Sir Patrick Hepborne and the page, followed by Mortimer Sang and the rest of the party, rode slowly on after their savage guides, along sideling paths worn in the steep acclivities of the mountains, by the deer, wild bisons, and other animals then abounding in the wilderness of Scotland. The fir forests appeared endless; the trees were of the most gigantic stature, and might have been of an age coeval with that second creation that sprang up over the surface of the renovated and newly-fructified earth, after the subsiding waters had left their fertilising mud behind them. Long hairy moss hung streaming from their lateral branches, which, dried by the lack of air and moisture, occasioned by the increasing growth of the shade above, had died from the very vigour of the plant they were[185]attached to. As Hepborne beheld the two mountaineers striding before them in their rough attire, winding among those enormous scaly trunks, or standing on some rocky point above, leaning against one of them, to wait for the slow ascent of himself and party, he could not help comparing them with those vegetable giants, and indulging his fancy in the whimsical notion that they were as two of them, animated and endowed with the powers of locomotion. The ground they travelled was infinitely rough and varied in surface, hills and hollows, knolls, gullies, rivers, and lakes; but all was forest, never-ending forest. Sometimes, indeed, they crossed large tracks of ground, where, to open a space for pasture, or to banish the wolves, or to admit a more extended view around for purposes of hunting, or perhaps by some accidental fire, the forest had been burnt. There the huge trunks of the trees, charred black by the flames, and standing deprived of everything but a few of their larger limbs, added to the savage scenery around.Before entering one of these wastes, in a little plain lying in the bottom of a valley, where the devastation had been arrested in its progress by some cause before it had been carried to any great extent, their guides descried a herd of the wild bisons, which were natives of Scotland for ages after the period we are now speaking of. The animals were feeding at no very great distance, and the mountaineers were instantly all eagerness to get at them. Pointing them out to Hepborne, they made signs that he and his party should halt. He complied with their wishes; and they immediately secured their dogs to the trees, to prevent the risk of giving any premature alarm, and, setting off with inconceivable speed through the skirting wood that grew on the side of the mountain, were soon lost to view. Hepborne kept his eye on the herd. They were of a pure milk-white hue, and, as the sun was reflected from their glossy hides, they appeared still more brilliant, from contrast with the blackened ruins of the burnt pines among which they were pasturing. At their head was a noble bull with a magnificent mane.As Hepborne and the page were admiring the beauty and symmetry of this leader of the herd, noting the immense strength indicated by the thickness and depth of his chest with the lightness and sprightliness of his head, and his upright and spreading horns, of a white rivalling that of ivory in lustre, and tipt with points of jet black, they observed a fat cow near to him suddenly fall to the ground, by an arrow from the covert of the trees, while another having been lodged in his flank at[186]the same moment, he started aside, and bounded off in a wide circuit with great swiftness, and the whole herd, being alarmed, darted after him. Out rushed the mountaineers from their concealment, and, making for the wounded cow, soon despatched her with their spears.They then attempted to creep nearer to the herd, and even succeeded in lodging more than one arrow in the bull; but as none of them took effect in a vital part, they only served to madden the animal. He turned, and, ere they wist, charged them with a fury and speed that left them hardly time to make their escape. They ran towards the place where Hepborne and his party were concealed, and, just as the knight moved forward into the open ground, they succeeded in getting up into trees. Sir Patrick’s manœuvre had the desired effect in checking the attack of the bisons, for they stopped short in the middle of their career, gazed at the party, and then, led by the bull at their head, again galloped off in a wide circle, sweeping round a second time towards the knight, and coming to a sudden stand beyond bow-shot. After remaining at rest for some minutes, with their heads all turned towards the party, the bull began pawing the ground and bellowing aloud, after which he charged forward the half of the distance, and then halted.Hepborne, seeing him thus detached from his followers, put his lance in the rest, and was preparing to attack him; but just as he was rising in his stirrup, and was about to give his horse the spur, the page, with a countenance pale as death, and a hand trembling with apprehension, seized his bridle-rein, and looking anxiously in his face—“Do not peril thy life, Sir Knight,” said he—“do not, I beseech thee, peril thy life against a vulgar beast, where thou canst gain no honour; do not, for the sake of the blessed Virgin—do not essay so dangerous and unprofitable an adventure.”“Pshaw,” said Hepborne, vexed with the notion that the boy was betraying pusillanimity; “is that the face, are those the looks, and is that the pallid hue of fear thou dost mean to put on as the proofs of thy fitness for deeds of manhood and warlike encounter?”The page dropped his head, ashamed and hurt by his master’s chiding; but still he did not let go the rein—“Nay, Sir Knight,” said he calmly, “I did but argue that thy prowess, shown upon a vile brute, were but lost. Rather let me attempt to attack yonder salvage; he better befits mine[187]unpractised arm than thine honoured lance, which hath overthrown puissant knights.”“Tush, boy,” said Sir Patrick, somewhat better pleased to see the spirit that lurked in the youth, “thou art much too young, and thine arm is as yet too feeble to fit thee for encounter with yonder huge mass of thews and muscles. Stand by, my dear boy, and let me pass.”He gave the palfrey the spur, and sprang forward against the bull. The page couched his slender lance, to which a pennon was attached, and bravely followed the knight in the charge, as fast as his palfrey could gallop. The bull, seeing Hepborne coming on him, bellowed aloud, and, putting down his nose to the ground, he shut his eyes, and darted forward against his assailant. Hepborne wheeled his horse suddenly out of his way, and, with great adroitness, ran his lance through him as he passed him. But his manœuvre, though manifesting excellent judgment, and admirable skill and horsemanship, had nearly proved fatal to the page, whose palfrey, coming up in a straight line behind that of the knight, and seeing the bull coming directly upon him, sprang to the side, and by that means unhorsing the boy, left him lying on the ground, in the very path of the infuriated beast. In agony from his wound, the creature immediately proceeded to attack the youth with his horns. But the page having kept hold of his spear, with great presence of mind, ran its point, with the flapping pennon attached to it, right into the animal’s eyes. The creature instantly retreated a few steps, and before he could renew his attack he was overpowered by the knight and his party, who immediately surrounded him, and was killed by at least a dozen spear-thrusts at once. A general charge was now made against the rest that still stood at a distance, crowded together in a knot; when the whole of them, wheeling suddenly round, galloped off with the utmost swiftness, and were lost in the depths of the forest.Hepborne leaped from his horse and ran anxiously to assist Maurice de Grey, who still lay on the ground, apparently faint from the fall he had had, and perhaps, too, partly from the alarm he had been in. He raised him up, upon which the boy burst into tears.“Art thou hurt, Maurice?” demanded Hepborne, with alarm.“Nay,” said the boy, “I am not hurt.”“Fye on thee, then,” said Hepborne; “let not tears sully the glory thou has but now earned by thy manly attempt in so boldly riding to my rescue. Verily thou wilt be a brave lad[188]anon. Be assured, my beloved boy,” continued he, as he warmly embraced him, “I feel as grateful for thine affectionate exertions in my behalf as if I now owed my life to them. But dry up thy tears, and let them not henceforth well out so frequently, lest thy manhood and courage may be questioned.”“Nay, Sir Knight,” said the boy, “these are not the tears of cowardice; they are the tears of gratitude to heaven for thy safety; and methinks they are less dishonourable to me,” continued he, with an arch smile of satisfaction, “since I see that thine own manly cheek is somewhat moistened.”Hepborne said no more, but turned away hastily, for he felt that what the boy said was true. He had experienced very great alarm for Maurice’s life, and the relief he received by seeing him in safety, operating in conjunction with the thought that the danger the page had thrown himself into had been occasioned by a mistaken zeal to defend him from the bull, grappled his generous heart, and filled his eyes with a moisture he could not restrain.The two mountaineers proceeded to skin the animals, a work which they performed with great expertness; then cutting off the finer parts of the flesh, and carefully extracting the tallow, they rolled them up in the hides; and each lifting one of them on his brawny shoulders, proceeded on their journey, after allowing their hungry dogs to gorge themselves on the remainder.The knight and his party were now led up some of those wild glens which bring down tributary streams to the river Dee, and they gradually began to climb the southern side of that lofty range of mountains separating its valley from that of the Spey. They soon rose above the region of forest, and continued to ascend by zigzag paths, where the horses found a difficult and precarious footing, and where the riders were often compelled to dismount. The fatigue to both men and animals was so great, that some of the latter frequently slipped down, and were with great labour recovered from the hazard they were thrown into. At length, after unremitting and toilsome exertions, they found themselves on the very ridge of the mountain group, from which they enjoyed a view backwards over many leagues of the wild but romantic country they had travelled through during the previous day.They now crossed an extensive plain, the greatest part of which was covered with a hardened glacier, while two high tops reared themselves, one on either side, covered with glazed snow, that reflected the sunbeams with dazzling brightness. The passage across this stretch of table-land was difficult, the horses[189]frequently slipping and often falling, till, at length, they came suddenly on the edge of a precipice, whence they looked down into one of the most sublime scenes that nature can well present.The long and narrow trough of the glen, bounded on both sides by tremendously precipitous rocks, rising from a depth that made the head giddy to overlook it, stretched from under them in nearly a straight line, for perhaps six or seven miles, being cooped in between the two highest points of the Grampians. The bottom of the nearer and more savage part of this singular hollow among the mountains was so completely filled with the waters of the wild Loch Avon, as to leave but little shore on either side, and that little was in most places inclined in a steep slope, and covered with mountainous fragments, that had fallen during a succession of ages from the overhanging cliffs. A detachment of pines, from the lower forests, came straggling up the more distant part of the glen, and some of them had even established themselves here and there in scattered groups, and uncouthly-shaped single trees, along the sides of the lake, or among the rocks arising from it. The long sheet of water lay unruffled amidst the uninterrupted quiet that prevailed, and, receiving no other image than that of the sky above, assumed a tinge of the deepest and darkest hue. The glacier they stood on, and which hung over the brow of the cliff, gave rise to two very considerable streams, which threw themselves roaring over the rocks, dashing and breaking into an infinite variety of forms, and shooting headlong into the lake below.The sun was now sinking rapidly in the west, and night was fast approaching. The great elevation they had gained, and the solitary wilderness of alpine country that surrounded them, almost excluded the possibility of any human habitation being within their reach. Hepborne became anxiously solicitous for the page Maurice de Grey, who had for a considerable time been manifesting excessive fatigue. Their dumb guides seemed to stand as if uncertain how to proceed, and Hepborne’s anxiety increased. He endeavoured to question them by signs, as to where they intended the party to halt for the night. With some difficulty he succeeded in making them understand him, and they then pointed out a piece of green ground, looped in by a sweep of the river, that escaped from the farther end of the lake. The spot seemed to be sheltered by surrounding pine trees, and wore in every respect a most inviting aspect. But if they had been endowed with wings and could have taken the flight of eagles from the region of the clouds where they then were, the distance must have been five or six miles. Taking[190]into calculation, therefore, the immense circuit they must make with the horses in order to gain the bottom of the glen beyond the lake, which must necessarily quadruple the direct distance, together with the toilsome nature of the way, Sir Patrick saw that Maurice de Grey must sink under the pressure of fatigue before one-twentieth part of it could be performed. He was therefore thrown into a state of the utmost perplexity, for the cold was so great where they then were, that it was absolutely impossible they could remain there during the night, without the risk of being frozen to death.One of the guides, observing Hepborne’s uneasiness and doubt, approached him, and pointed almost perpendicularly downwards to a place near the upper end of the lake, where the masses of rock lay thickest and hugest. The knight could not comprehend him at first, but the man, taking up two or three rough angular stones, placed them on the ground close to each other in the form of an irregular circle, everywhere entire except in one point, where the space of about the width of one of them was left vacant; and then, lifting up a stone of a cubical shape, and of much greater size, he placed the flat base of it on the top of the others, so as entirely to cover them and the little area they enclosed. Having made Hepborne observe that he could thrust his hand in at the point where the circle had been left incomplete, and that he could move it in the cavity under the flat base of the stone, he again pointed downwards to the same spot he had indicated near the upper end of the lake, and at last succeeded in calling Hepborne’s attention to one of the fallen crags, much larger than the rest, but which, from the immensity of the height they were above it, looked liked a mere handful. The guide no sooner saw that the knight’s eye had distinguished the object he wished him to notice, than he turned and pointed to the mimic erection he had formed on the ground, and at length made him comprehend that the fallen crag below was similarly poised, and afforded a like cavernous shelter beneath it. At the same time he indicated a zigzag path that led precipitously down the cliffs, like a stair among the rocks, between the two foaming cataracts. This was altogether impracticable for the horses, it is true, but it was sufficiently feasible, though hazardous enough, for active pedestrians. The guide separated Hepborne and Maurice de Grey from the rest of the party, and then, pointing to the men and horses, swept his extended finger round from them to the distant green spot beyond the end of the lake; and this he did in such a manner as to make the knight at once understand he meant to propose that the party[191]should proceed thither by a circuitous route, under the guidance of his companion, whilst he should himself conduct Hepborne and his already over-fatigued page directly down to the Sheltering Stone below, where they might have comfortable lodging for the night. He further signified to Hepborne that the horses might be brought for a considerable way up the lake to meet him in the morning.
Sir Patrick Hepborne and the page, followed by Mortimer Sang and the rest of the party, rode slowly on after their savage guides, along sideling paths worn in the steep acclivities of the mountains, by the deer, wild bisons, and other animals then abounding in the wilderness of Scotland. The fir forests appeared endless; the trees were of the most gigantic stature, and might have been of an age coeval with that second creation that sprang up over the surface of the renovated and newly-fructified earth, after the subsiding waters had left their fertilising mud behind them. Long hairy moss hung streaming from their lateral branches, which, dried by the lack of air and moisture, occasioned by the increasing growth of the shade above, had died from the very vigour of the plant they were[185]attached to. As Hepborne beheld the two mountaineers striding before them in their rough attire, winding among those enormous scaly trunks, or standing on some rocky point above, leaning against one of them, to wait for the slow ascent of himself and party, he could not help comparing them with those vegetable giants, and indulging his fancy in the whimsical notion that they were as two of them, animated and endowed with the powers of locomotion. The ground they travelled was infinitely rough and varied in surface, hills and hollows, knolls, gullies, rivers, and lakes; but all was forest, never-ending forest. Sometimes, indeed, they crossed large tracks of ground, where, to open a space for pasture, or to banish the wolves, or to admit a more extended view around for purposes of hunting, or perhaps by some accidental fire, the forest had been burnt. There the huge trunks of the trees, charred black by the flames, and standing deprived of everything but a few of their larger limbs, added to the savage scenery around.
Before entering one of these wastes, in a little plain lying in the bottom of a valley, where the devastation had been arrested in its progress by some cause before it had been carried to any great extent, their guides descried a herd of the wild bisons, which were natives of Scotland for ages after the period we are now speaking of. The animals were feeding at no very great distance, and the mountaineers were instantly all eagerness to get at them. Pointing them out to Hepborne, they made signs that he and his party should halt. He complied with their wishes; and they immediately secured their dogs to the trees, to prevent the risk of giving any premature alarm, and, setting off with inconceivable speed through the skirting wood that grew on the side of the mountain, were soon lost to view. Hepborne kept his eye on the herd. They were of a pure milk-white hue, and, as the sun was reflected from their glossy hides, they appeared still more brilliant, from contrast with the blackened ruins of the burnt pines among which they were pasturing. At their head was a noble bull with a magnificent mane.
As Hepborne and the page were admiring the beauty and symmetry of this leader of the herd, noting the immense strength indicated by the thickness and depth of his chest with the lightness and sprightliness of his head, and his upright and spreading horns, of a white rivalling that of ivory in lustre, and tipt with points of jet black, they observed a fat cow near to him suddenly fall to the ground, by an arrow from the covert of the trees, while another having been lodged in his flank at[186]the same moment, he started aside, and bounded off in a wide circuit with great swiftness, and the whole herd, being alarmed, darted after him. Out rushed the mountaineers from their concealment, and, making for the wounded cow, soon despatched her with their spears.
They then attempted to creep nearer to the herd, and even succeeded in lodging more than one arrow in the bull; but as none of them took effect in a vital part, they only served to madden the animal. He turned, and, ere they wist, charged them with a fury and speed that left them hardly time to make their escape. They ran towards the place where Hepborne and his party were concealed, and, just as the knight moved forward into the open ground, they succeeded in getting up into trees. Sir Patrick’s manœuvre had the desired effect in checking the attack of the bisons, for they stopped short in the middle of their career, gazed at the party, and then, led by the bull at their head, again galloped off in a wide circle, sweeping round a second time towards the knight, and coming to a sudden stand beyond bow-shot. After remaining at rest for some minutes, with their heads all turned towards the party, the bull began pawing the ground and bellowing aloud, after which he charged forward the half of the distance, and then halted.
Hepborne, seeing him thus detached from his followers, put his lance in the rest, and was preparing to attack him; but just as he was rising in his stirrup, and was about to give his horse the spur, the page, with a countenance pale as death, and a hand trembling with apprehension, seized his bridle-rein, and looking anxiously in his face—
“Do not peril thy life, Sir Knight,” said he—“do not, I beseech thee, peril thy life against a vulgar beast, where thou canst gain no honour; do not, for the sake of the blessed Virgin—do not essay so dangerous and unprofitable an adventure.”
“Pshaw,” said Hepborne, vexed with the notion that the boy was betraying pusillanimity; “is that the face, are those the looks, and is that the pallid hue of fear thou dost mean to put on as the proofs of thy fitness for deeds of manhood and warlike encounter?”
The page dropped his head, ashamed and hurt by his master’s chiding; but still he did not let go the rein—
“Nay, Sir Knight,” said he calmly, “I did but argue that thy prowess, shown upon a vile brute, were but lost. Rather let me attempt to attack yonder salvage; he better befits mine[187]unpractised arm than thine honoured lance, which hath overthrown puissant knights.”
“Tush, boy,” said Sir Patrick, somewhat better pleased to see the spirit that lurked in the youth, “thou art much too young, and thine arm is as yet too feeble to fit thee for encounter with yonder huge mass of thews and muscles. Stand by, my dear boy, and let me pass.”
He gave the palfrey the spur, and sprang forward against the bull. The page couched his slender lance, to which a pennon was attached, and bravely followed the knight in the charge, as fast as his palfrey could gallop. The bull, seeing Hepborne coming on him, bellowed aloud, and, putting down his nose to the ground, he shut his eyes, and darted forward against his assailant. Hepborne wheeled his horse suddenly out of his way, and, with great adroitness, ran his lance through him as he passed him. But his manœuvre, though manifesting excellent judgment, and admirable skill and horsemanship, had nearly proved fatal to the page, whose palfrey, coming up in a straight line behind that of the knight, and seeing the bull coming directly upon him, sprang to the side, and by that means unhorsing the boy, left him lying on the ground, in the very path of the infuriated beast. In agony from his wound, the creature immediately proceeded to attack the youth with his horns. But the page having kept hold of his spear, with great presence of mind, ran its point, with the flapping pennon attached to it, right into the animal’s eyes. The creature instantly retreated a few steps, and before he could renew his attack he was overpowered by the knight and his party, who immediately surrounded him, and was killed by at least a dozen spear-thrusts at once. A general charge was now made against the rest that still stood at a distance, crowded together in a knot; when the whole of them, wheeling suddenly round, galloped off with the utmost swiftness, and were lost in the depths of the forest.
Hepborne leaped from his horse and ran anxiously to assist Maurice de Grey, who still lay on the ground, apparently faint from the fall he had had, and perhaps, too, partly from the alarm he had been in. He raised him up, upon which the boy burst into tears.
“Art thou hurt, Maurice?” demanded Hepborne, with alarm.
“Nay,” said the boy, “I am not hurt.”
“Fye on thee, then,” said Hepborne; “let not tears sully the glory thou has but now earned by thy manly attempt in so boldly riding to my rescue. Verily thou wilt be a brave lad[188]anon. Be assured, my beloved boy,” continued he, as he warmly embraced him, “I feel as grateful for thine affectionate exertions in my behalf as if I now owed my life to them. But dry up thy tears, and let them not henceforth well out so frequently, lest thy manhood and courage may be questioned.”
“Nay, Sir Knight,” said the boy, “these are not the tears of cowardice; they are the tears of gratitude to heaven for thy safety; and methinks they are less dishonourable to me,” continued he, with an arch smile of satisfaction, “since I see that thine own manly cheek is somewhat moistened.”
Hepborne said no more, but turned away hastily, for he felt that what the boy said was true. He had experienced very great alarm for Maurice’s life, and the relief he received by seeing him in safety, operating in conjunction with the thought that the danger the page had thrown himself into had been occasioned by a mistaken zeal to defend him from the bull, grappled his generous heart, and filled his eyes with a moisture he could not restrain.
The two mountaineers proceeded to skin the animals, a work which they performed with great expertness; then cutting off the finer parts of the flesh, and carefully extracting the tallow, they rolled them up in the hides; and each lifting one of them on his brawny shoulders, proceeded on their journey, after allowing their hungry dogs to gorge themselves on the remainder.
The knight and his party were now led up some of those wild glens which bring down tributary streams to the river Dee, and they gradually began to climb the southern side of that lofty range of mountains separating its valley from that of the Spey. They soon rose above the region of forest, and continued to ascend by zigzag paths, where the horses found a difficult and precarious footing, and where the riders were often compelled to dismount. The fatigue to both men and animals was so great, that some of the latter frequently slipped down, and were with great labour recovered from the hazard they were thrown into. At length, after unremitting and toilsome exertions, they found themselves on the very ridge of the mountain group, from which they enjoyed a view backwards over many leagues of the wild but romantic country they had travelled through during the previous day.
They now crossed an extensive plain, the greatest part of which was covered with a hardened glacier, while two high tops reared themselves, one on either side, covered with glazed snow, that reflected the sunbeams with dazzling brightness. The passage across this stretch of table-land was difficult, the horses[189]frequently slipping and often falling, till, at length, they came suddenly on the edge of a precipice, whence they looked down into one of the most sublime scenes that nature can well present.
The long and narrow trough of the glen, bounded on both sides by tremendously precipitous rocks, rising from a depth that made the head giddy to overlook it, stretched from under them in nearly a straight line, for perhaps six or seven miles, being cooped in between the two highest points of the Grampians. The bottom of the nearer and more savage part of this singular hollow among the mountains was so completely filled with the waters of the wild Loch Avon, as to leave but little shore on either side, and that little was in most places inclined in a steep slope, and covered with mountainous fragments, that had fallen during a succession of ages from the overhanging cliffs. A detachment of pines, from the lower forests, came straggling up the more distant part of the glen, and some of them had even established themselves here and there in scattered groups, and uncouthly-shaped single trees, along the sides of the lake, or among the rocks arising from it. The long sheet of water lay unruffled amidst the uninterrupted quiet that prevailed, and, receiving no other image than that of the sky above, assumed a tinge of the deepest and darkest hue. The glacier they stood on, and which hung over the brow of the cliff, gave rise to two very considerable streams, which threw themselves roaring over the rocks, dashing and breaking into an infinite variety of forms, and shooting headlong into the lake below.
The sun was now sinking rapidly in the west, and night was fast approaching. The great elevation they had gained, and the solitary wilderness of alpine country that surrounded them, almost excluded the possibility of any human habitation being within their reach. Hepborne became anxiously solicitous for the page Maurice de Grey, who had for a considerable time been manifesting excessive fatigue. Their dumb guides seemed to stand as if uncertain how to proceed, and Hepborne’s anxiety increased. He endeavoured to question them by signs, as to where they intended the party to halt for the night. With some difficulty he succeeded in making them understand him, and they then pointed out a piece of green ground, looped in by a sweep of the river, that escaped from the farther end of the lake. The spot seemed to be sheltered by surrounding pine trees, and wore in every respect a most inviting aspect. But if they had been endowed with wings and could have taken the flight of eagles from the region of the clouds where they then were, the distance must have been five or six miles. Taking[190]into calculation, therefore, the immense circuit they must make with the horses in order to gain the bottom of the glen beyond the lake, which must necessarily quadruple the direct distance, together with the toilsome nature of the way, Sir Patrick saw that Maurice de Grey must sink under the pressure of fatigue before one-twentieth part of it could be performed. He was therefore thrown into a state of the utmost perplexity, for the cold was so great where they then were, that it was absolutely impossible they could remain there during the night, without the risk of being frozen to death.
One of the guides, observing Hepborne’s uneasiness and doubt, approached him, and pointed almost perpendicularly downwards to a place near the upper end of the lake, where the masses of rock lay thickest and hugest. The knight could not comprehend him at first, but the man, taking up two or three rough angular stones, placed them on the ground close to each other in the form of an irregular circle, everywhere entire except in one point, where the space of about the width of one of them was left vacant; and then, lifting up a stone of a cubical shape, and of much greater size, he placed the flat base of it on the top of the others, so as entirely to cover them and the little area they enclosed. Having made Hepborne observe that he could thrust his hand in at the point where the circle had been left incomplete, and that he could move it in the cavity under the flat base of the stone, he again pointed downwards to the same spot he had indicated near the upper end of the lake, and at last succeeded in calling Hepborne’s attention to one of the fallen crags, much larger than the rest, but which, from the immensity of the height they were above it, looked liked a mere handful. The guide no sooner saw that the knight’s eye had distinguished the object he wished him to notice, than he turned and pointed to the mimic erection he had formed on the ground, and at length made him comprehend that the fallen crag below was similarly poised, and afforded a like cavernous shelter beneath it. At the same time he indicated a zigzag path that led precipitously down the cliffs, like a stair among the rocks, between the two foaming cataracts. This was altogether impracticable for the horses, it is true, but it was sufficiently feasible, though hazardous enough, for active pedestrians. The guide separated Hepborne and Maurice de Grey from the rest of the party, and then, pointing to the men and horses, swept his extended finger round from them to the distant green spot beyond the end of the lake; and this he did in such a manner as to make the knight at once understand he meant to propose that the party[191]should proceed thither by a circuitous route, under the guidance of his companion, whilst he should himself conduct Hepborne and his already over-fatigued page directly down to the Sheltering Stone below, where they might have comfortable lodging for the night. He further signified to Hepborne that the horses might be brought for a considerable way up the lake to meet him in the morning.