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that we shot nothing more, save of the feathered tribe, that day. Before midnight I slept as soundly as the stones beneath Loch Rusque. Not a dream broke through the cloud in which fatigue had wrapt my senses, and it could be no work of slumbering fancy when I suddenly started wide awake with the sound of a dog's painful and complaining cry in my ears. Neither howl, nor whine, nor bark; still I knew at once the voice-it was Mona's: but what could have called forth such a cry from her? I sprang up instantly, and looked from my window. All lay as calm, and quiet, and beautiful, as though nought of pain or sorrow rested beneath the glittering stars. Not an object moved, not a sound was to be heard; man and dog, all alike seemed sleeping peacefully after their long day's ramble. Could it have been merely imagination? it appeared probable. Yet the feeling of doubt and uneasiness remained so strong that I was sorely tempted to call Mona, or go and see if she indeed were safe. But the silence appeared too deep to be lightly broken, and I was deterred by the shame of perhaps arousing my companions, and causing a disturbance about an idle fancy: how the fear of ridicule, as much as conscience, " doth make cowards of us all." So I lay down again but half satisfied, and keeping my senses on the stretch for the slightest indication of anything stirring. For some time, at least, I maintained such vigilance; but all was still as death, and I was weary; so, while fancying I kept careful watch, I fell asleep, to dream of doing so.

When I awoke, the sun was shining merrily, and Gaelic voices were busy chattering without. My first thought was of Mona, and throwing open the window, I eagerly demanded where she was.

"To pe shurely," replied old Murdoch; "it's shust tat her nainsel wad pe speerin', for she's no clappet eyes on ta ponny ting ta plessed

morn.

All inquiries and search were fruitless; Mona had disappeared; but how or whither there was no clue and some might find it difficult to comprehend the full extent of the anxiety and concern this gave me. Most men know how to value a dog; but to me Mona seemed less like a dog than a faithful friend, the companion of many wanderings and adventures in various lands. She was an Irish setter of the purest breed, and one of the most intelligent of that intelligent family of the canine species. With animals, horses, and dogs especially, the companionship of human beings is found to greatly improve their intellectual powers; and Mona's preference for the society of two-footed, talking creatures had not been without effect. High as were her qualifications as a sporting dog, she had a greater value in my eyes-she had shared with me hardship and danger, had saved me from death, and watched by me in sickness, been gay when I was happy, and sad when I was sorrowful, and it was for this I prized her and feared her loss. Nothing could have persuaded me that Mona's absence was voluntary. What then could have occasioned it? Mysie o' the Hill stood foremost in my thought as both cause and instrument of her abduction, for mine had been the only dog present at the death of her little cur.

"It was a wild idea," so Moore said; "but if the dumb wife did contemplate replacing her lost dog by Mona, the setter would find her way home as soon as she was at liberty.'

Of that there was no doubt; but Mysie might have wit enough to detain her long a prisoner; and though I could scarcely tell their

source or nature, I had other worse fears as to the fate of my beautiful and affectionate Mona if left to the tender mercies of the outcast. So while Moore took measures for discovering whether the setter had not been carried off by other hands for her marketable value, as he thought possible, I lost no time in gathering what information I could respecting the dumb woman's character and habits. Ever restless and roving, they said, she was; sometimes visiting villages or farm-houses to exercise the prophetic skill, which her fearful deprivations of speech and hearing were everywhere received as incontestible warrant for her possessing, or to collect the meal and potatoes which fear, as well as charity, was ever ready to grant ; sometimes unseen for months together. She dwelt among the hills, but had no settled abiding-place it was evident, from the suddenness and rapidity of her appearance in different places; for of her ménage nothing was known; while, though she was vaguely dreaded, none could tell that she had ever done anything deserving it.

To trace Mysie was said to be like finding the eagle's track in the air; but I was resolved to try. Therefore, taking with me Donald, who professed a knowledge of some wild spots, favourite haunts of the dumb wife, I started off at once to visit them, climbing rugged steeps, and treading pathless glens, for to us the quickest was the best way across the ridge. Had I not been busied with less pleasant thoughts I might have been charmed with the scene which wooed my gaze, as breathless with the ascent I paused a-while to rest on the shoulder of one of those tall hills. It was mid-day, and all around me lakes and mountains were sleeping in the August sunlight. On one hand rose the lofty Finne-nabhein-the Hill of Fingal-gleaming an emerald to its very summit; on the other hand stood Noruisk, the Mountain of Much Water; while beyond, Scuir-a-mhouillin closed the view. Here and there on the hillside shone forth as a golden thread some torrent in the noon-ray; and farther away the light flashed from broader mirrors on Loch Auchnanault and Loch Cullin.

But I had little time to scan the landscape; I was at the head of a rough glen, down which we had to scramble. In that and others Donald led me to more than one lonely nook which he said the dumb wife frequented; but a few charred sticks, a smoke-darkened rock, or pile of heather thrown in a crevice, formed the only signs of occupation, and none were recent. At length we approached the most secluded and inaccessible of Mysie's retreats, with which, in his boyish rambles among the hills, the gillie had become acquainted. It was a wild dell, embosomed amid frowning rocks, and we neared it by clambering down the face of a precipice to a ledge of rock, along which, my guide explained, we must descend gradually until at some distance it led to the only entrance to the dell. But scarcely had we reached the ledge when a joyful bark from below welcomed us.

"Mona, Mona!" I cried, looking down into the dell, from which a perpendicular rocky wall of at least twenty feet divided me. And there lay Mona, responding to my voice with her quick, glad bark, and struggling to rise, but uselessly, as I then saw her feet were tied together.

At the same moment I heard a sharp clashing sound, and leaning over the ledge perceived the deaf woman whetting a knife on a smooth stone. "Faut's for tat!" cried Donald instantly!" she'll no pe murterin' ta ponny tyke!" And away sped Donald, bounding like a mountain goat along the wild and dangerous path.

I was about to follow, but Mysie sprang from her knees, and I remained, thinking such interference might come too late. One leap brought her to the setter, whose continued struggles to rise and upturned gaze failed, absorbed as she was in her own purpose, to draw the deaf and dumb woman's attention to me. I took off my hat and flung it at her, but an eddy caught and bore it past her unperceived, as seizing Mona with one hand, she brandished the knife in the other with a horrid shriek, the wretched being's sole substitute for a laugh, probably in exultation over the savage act of retaliation which she meditated.

How many an instance of Mona's devoted attachment flashed on my mind as I beheld her struggling in the grasp of her intended slayer. Was she to be killed there before my eyes, and I powerless to help the gentle creature that seemed mutely claiming my assistance? To leap down had been madness, yet no time was to be lost, for already the knife was directed to her throat. My gun was in my hand, and I knelt and raised it to my shoulder: now, don't be shocked! not with the slightest intention of injuring the dumb woman; but excited as I was, I could not resist the temptation of turning to some account the only means of interference left to me. Her side was to me, and I made a momentary computation of the chances of hitting the knife without striking her or her helpless victim. I had made as good shots ere then, but it was when I was cooler; and viewing them as I did the senseless infuriated woman, and the gentle, unoffending Mona-God forgive me, if in my desire to avoid harming either, I did not weigh too justly the balance of value between their lives.

With a fiendish

But all this was the act and thought of a moment. grin, Mysie kept the setter firm beneath her knee, while one hand held back her head, and the other was upraised to strike. Not an instant was to spare, and taking rapid aim, I fired. The bullet missed the descending knife, and struck the earth close beside the immolating priestess of revenge; but its flight had caught her glance, or the concussion of the air and sulphurous smell apprised her of danger; for she leaped to her feet, and her glittering eyes shot fire it seemed on every side at once. In a second she perceived me; and to intimidate, I pointed my gun at her. It had the effect; for whirling the knife up at me, and with no despicable aim, she fled wildly from the spot, while one long unearthly shriek of terror was caught up by the echoing rocks.

Before I could reach the dell, Mona, freed by Donald, was capering round me in a paroxysm of delight; and in a few minutes more we were treading merrily our homeward way across the hills. Of Mysie, nothing more was seen for many months; but I did not risk the chance of leaving my valued setter within reach of her clutches; so on the following day I quitted Ross-shire, and the shores of Loch Ness furnished my shooting ground for the remainder of the season.

"Mysie o' the Hill has proved herself a better dog-stealer than witch," laughed Hingsly, as I bade him farewell.

But he did not repeat the sarcasm when he joined my Christmas circle in England; for during that autumn a yacht he was on board of was run down in the channel, and he was one of the few who escaped by clinging to the huge East Indiaman which buried their companions in a watery grave; thereby suggesting a doubt whether the dumb wife's pictured ship had been in warning or mistake.