United States or Western Sahara ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
A rabbit had been watching him from the cliff above nearly all the time he was eating. It moved quietly into its burrow when he rose, though there was no occasion to do so, because, although within easy rifle shot, MacRummle did not see it. When the sportsman was past, the rabbit came out and looked after him.
A young rabbit sat on the top of a mound looking at him with an air of impudence which is sometimes associated with extreme youth. A fat old kinsman or woman was seated in a hollow some distance farther on. MacRummle fired at the young one, missed it, and shot the kinsman through the heart.
In obedience to his own orders, MacRummle went up to a part of the stream where a high cliff on one side and a steepish bank on the other caused it to flow in a deep channel, not much more than a couple of yards wide. At the head of the run was a ledge where fish were invariably captured. Towards this spot the old man hurried eagerly.
And evidently MacRummle thought not, as he wandered one soft, delightful morning, rod in hand, down to the river-side. The river-side! There is something restfully suggestive in the very words.
While the incidents just described were being enacted at the base of the Eagle Cliff higher up, on a distant part of the same cliff, MacRummle might have been seen prowling among the grey rocks, with the spirit of Nimrod, and the aspect of Bacchus.
John Barret said he would start with them, but would at a certain point drop behind and botanise. MacRummle also preferred to make one more effort to catch that grilse which had risen so often to him of late, but was still at large in the big pool under the fall.
It became quite evident to John Barret that his new friend was "used to" a good many more things besides tumbling into the river, for as they went slowly along the winding footpath that led them through the peat-hags, MacRummle tripped over a variety of stumps, roots, and other excrescences which presented themselves in the track, and which on several occasions brought him to the ground.
The rifle became almost too hot to hold, and when at last it ceased to respond to the drain upon its bankrupt magazine, the stag and hind lay dead upon the track, and MacRummle lay exhausted with excitement and exertion upon the heather! This unwonted fusillade took the various parties higher up the hill by surprise.
The sportsmen were graphic in recounting the various incidents of the day; Mrs Moss was equally graphic on the horrors of the sea; MacRummle was eulogistic of repeating rifles, and inclined to be boastful about the raven, which he hoped to show them on the morrow, while Milly proved herself, as usual, a beautiful and interested listener, as well as a most hearty laugher.
Suddenly the glengarry bonnet of Junkie leaped mysteriously off his head, and dropped on the heather behind him. "Hanked again!" growled MacRummle from the river-bed below. Every fisher knows the difficulty of casting a long line with a steep bank behind him. Once already the old gentleman had hanked on the bank a little lower down, but so slightly that a twitch brought the flies away.
Word Of The Day