On the afternoon of a certain autumn day I went out to try to shoot wild duck, the plan being that I should be landed with my gun and spaniel on a rocky islet in a certain sea loch, and that I should wait, taking what cover I could amongst the rocks, whilst the boat from which I was landed should be rowed up to the head of the loch in order to flush the wild duck of which there were always numbers there at that time of the year. It was known that on being disturbed the duck would fly down the loch towards the open sea, and some of them would probably cross the rocks on which I was waiting. It was a fairly quiet though misty day when we set out, but there were clouds gathering in the east, and it looked as if there would be a storm before long. In due course I was landed on the little island, which was quite small and consisted of low-lying rocks. I said to my old fisherman, who with another man was rowing the boat, “Are you sure that these rocks are never covered by the sea?” and he replied, “Ach, no, it is arl richt.” Away went the boat, and in it besides the two men rowing were an old friend of mine, who was a cautious Scot, and two ladies. [Illustration: AMONG THE WESTERN ISLANDS. From a Photograph by Miss DIANA DARLING.] Not long after it was out of sight the wind rose and rain began to fall. After a time some duck passed out of shot, then a single bird which I killed, then after another interval a big lot well out of shot, and then at intervals two single birds, one of which I brought down. The spaniel had enough to do to retrieve the birds with the strong tide and high wind. Just after this a storm of wind and rain swept down the loch, and the sea became very wild. I was still thinking about the duck, but felt no anxiety after what the old fisherman had said. After a time, however, I began to feel some apprehension, as the tide was rising very rapidly and there was only a comparatively small part of the island uncovered. I thought I had better make up my mind as to which was the highest point on the island, and particularly where I should have the best chance of retaining my footing if the sea rose much higher. I selected what seemed to be the best place for this purpose, with some short rocks in front of me, and took up my stand peering into the mist from time to time for a sight of the boat and hoping every moment to see it. There was now so small a part of the island uncovered that I was getting very wet from the waves, which were breaking with some force, and my dog was very excited, barking and whining and making a great fuss. Things were becoming very serious, and I could see that unless the tide turned within a few minutes the rocks would be covered. The water rose so high and so rapidly that I was now standing in water and the ducks I had shot were washed away. Still no sign of the boat, and the tide still rising.