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Updated: May 8, 2025
The passes to the town were head-high with drifted snow, our warders at the heads of Aora and Shira could not themselves make out the road, and the notion of added surety this gave us against Antrim's Irishmen was the only compensation for the ferocity of nature.
"You are far off your road," he said to her mildly, but she paid him no heed. "You have a bad tongue, mother," said M'Iver. She turned and spat on his vest, and on him anew she poured her condemnation. "You, indeed, the gentleman with an account to pay, the hero, the avenger! I wish my teeth had found your neck at the head of Aora Glen."
Constant sentinels watched the land from the fort of Dunchuach, that dominates every pass into our country, and outer guards took day and night about on the remoter alleys of Aora and Shira Glens. South, east, and west, we had friendly frontiers; only to the north were menace and danger, and from the north came our scaith the savage north and jealous.
He might have been a plain cottar on Glen Aora side rather than King of the Highlands for all the airs he assumed, and when he saw me, better put-on in costume than my neighbours in court, he seemingly asked my name in a whisper from the clerk beside him, and finding who I was, cried out in St Andrew's English "What! Young Elrigmore back to the Glens! I give you welcome, sir, to Baile Inneraora!"
The river Aora, plopping and crying on its hurried way down, had to be crossed, if at all, by a wooden bridge, cut at the parapets in the most humorous and useless way in embrasures, every embrasure flanked by port-holes for musketry a laughable pretence about an edifice in itself no stronger against powder than a child's toy.
They went north by the Aora passes into the country of Bredalbane, and my story need not follow them beyond. Inneraora burghers went back to their commercial affairs, and I went to Glen Shira to spend calm days on the river and the hill. My father seemed to age perceptibly, reflecting on his companion gone, and he clung to me like the crotal to the stone.
While Aora, with a knife produced apparently from nowhere, proceeded to hack off the white master's head, Bashti looked quizzically at his right forefinger dangling by a strip of skin.
To-day you will find Aora Glen smiling happy with crop and herd on either hand and houses at every turn of the road, with children playing below the mountain-ash that stands before each door.
We were on the edge of a glade of the wood, at the watershed of a small burn that tinkled among its ice along the ridge from Tombreck, dividing close beside us, half of it going to Shira Glen and half to Aora. The tall trees stood over us like sentinels, coated with snow in every bough; a cool crisp air fanned me, with a hint in it, somehow, of a smouldering wood-fire.
At their heels trooped the children of the village and all the village dogs, whooping and yelping with excitement. "Long time you fella Tiha no sit 'm along canoe," Aora bawled to the victim and set Bashti cackling again.
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