Victory came at last, for with one well-aimed blow it was laid dead on the road.
"It's all right now, Matty," cried Creggan cheerfully. "Come on, a run will warm us."
So it did, and they soon got clear of the "Wild Cats Cairns", as the ugly place was called.
But they never permitted themselves to be belated again.
These wild cats are still common enough in Sutherlandshire, and the adventure I have just related is very similar to one a boy had in that county. The cat on this occasion sprang from a tree. The lad was severely wounded, and although he managed to beat the beast off he did not succeed in killing it.
In the soft and fleshy part of the middle finger of my left hand are still the marks of the bite of a wild cat, with whom I had a difference of opinion. The beast had the best of it, and I went about with my arm slung to my head for three weeks at least.
That ruined castle of Duntulm was a favourite resort with the children. The donjon-keep was still entire, and from a window, or the hole where a window had been, one could look down over the precipice into the deep but clear water; and Matty used to clap her hands with joy to witness the great medusæ or jellyfish swimming about. Very beautiful indeed they were; some as big as a small open parasol, and fringed with long soft legs that kicked about in the drollest fashion.
Creggan used to read Ossian in English to Matty, and she would listen with open eyes to the wild and wondrous stories, all so full of romance and war. He knew the history of the castle too. It was at one time, he told Matty, the head stronghold of one of the M'Donald clans, and here dwelt the warlike chief. But across the sea-loch was the M'Leod country, and in his strong castle of Dunvegan dwelt the head of the clan. This castle is still inhabitable. Between the M'Donalds and the M'Leods was a blood feud, and many a fearful fight was the result.
Once the M'Donalds surprised the M'Leods in church. They heaped up banks of peats and wood in front of doors and windows, and burned or smothered every man, woman, and child. But the M'Leods took a terrible revenge, and for a long time the M'Donalds were quiet. But a thirst for revenge still lay latent in the breast of the Highland chief, and one day, under the guise of friendship, he enticed M'Leod to Duntulm Castle. When M'Leod arrived with his followers the latter were immediately set upon and slain, and although M'Leod himself laid about him boldly with his broad claymore, he was eventually captured and thrust into the donjon-keep.
Here he was kept for nearly two days without food. Then a trencher of salt beef was handed into him, and a large flagon which M'Leod thought was sack—a kind of claret. He ate heartily, then turned to the flagon to allay his thirst.