‘But are there any hereabouts who know how to use such a thing as this?’ asked the gauger, putting the piece to his eye.
‘Och! aye, sir; there’s Duncan Sealgair can hit a fox, an otter, or a seal, at a hunderd yards, easy.’
‘I am not speaking,’ said the gauger, with an air of sovereign contempt, ‘of otters, and foxes, and such low vermin; I ask you, man, as to shooting of game!’
‘Aye, sir, a goot lot of that too. There’s old Kenneth Matheson, she’ll be very goot at killing a buck.’
‘Pshaw! man, cannot you get your ideas above coarse four-footed beasts, great sprawling objects that there is no merit in killing.’
Eachainn scratched his head, at a loss what to answer next; but at length, with the air of a man who thinks he has made a discovery, exclaimed, ‘You’ll be meaning the wild goose, sir!’
‘You’re a wild goose yourself; I mean no such thing; I am asking ye, man, about grouse, red grouse.’
The guide was as puzzled as if he had heard Hebrew; but just then, as if to relieve his embarrassment, there arose a ‘Ca-ca!’ kind of sound among the heather. ‘She’ll shust be the muir-hens, sir, perhaps you’ll like to have shoot at them.’
‘Moor-hens! what’s that, lad?’ but further explanation was unnecessary, for the eye of the traveller caught the very red grouse he had appeared so anxious to find. The sight seemed to have a very agitating effect upon him, for he instantly stopped, dismounted, and gave his nag to the keeping of his companion; he then crept forward a few paces, his heart beating with the greatness of the occasion. At length, getting closer to the birds than most sportsmen would deem quite necessary, he knelt on one knee, and took a most deliberate, rifleman-like aim. On placing his finger on the trigger, his face was turned a little to one side—perhaps to avoid the expected smoke. He at length pulled the trigger, but, instead of a report, there was merely a snap in the pan. At this, the eldest, apparently, of the birds gave a ‘Ca-ca!’ and peered about to see what was the matter; and, to avoid being seen, the sportsman sunk down among the heather. Tying the gearran to a juniper root, Eachainn now cautiously crept up, and inquired in a whisper, ‘Has she refused, sir?’
‘Hush!’ said the other, shaking his hand for silence; ‘has who refused?’