Biographical fiction; Historical fiction; Outlaws -- Fiction; Rob Roy, 1671-1734 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1689-1745 -- Fiction
Then the shrill cries of the tortured cat woke a thousand echoes
among the rocks of that ghastly hollow, while it spat and bit at the
steel on which its blood was dripping to hiss on the fire below. Its
jaws were distended, and its protruding eyes glared like opals in the
light; its ears were laid flat, and every hair was bristling with
fear and agony, till scorched off by the rising flames.
Their lurid light cast strange and fantastic gleams on the rocks of
that solemn hollow; and when in the moaning night wind the birches
waved their drooping branches to and fro, the whole place seemed to
fill with moving figures of quaint and unearthly aspect.
As the yells of the tortured cat woke them up, sharp-nosed foxes
peeped forth from their holes with glittering eyes, fleet squirrels
scampered up the trees, and the birds screamed and whirred in flocks
out of the hollow; but fast and furiously there gathered from all
quarters cats, wild and domestic; over the bushes and rocks they came
swarming, as if to the rescue, with open mouths, protruding eyes,
extended claws, and backs erect; but they were compelled to pause,
being unable to enter the charmed circle, or it might be perhaps that
the glare of the fire terrified or bewildered them.
Cats in countless numbers--black, white, grey, and brindled--covered
all the rocks of the Coir nan Uriskin, according to Paul, denouncing
in fury the torment of their companion, till their spitting and
hissing sounded like the rush of a waterfall; for though many of
these sudden visitors were of the common size and kind, many more
were the wild cats of the mountains, which are four times larger than
the domestic, with yellow coats, black streaks, thick flat tails, and
are armed with claws and teeth well calculated to inspire terror.
Then as the branches of the trees waved to and fro, their shadows on
the weather-beaten rocks seemed more distinctly to assume the strange
form, the quaint and savage faces of the terrible Urisks, that
glimmered and jabbered at these unhallowed proceedings. But the
resolute Paul continued to mutter,--
See not this!
Hear not that!
Round with the spit,
And turn the cat!
So he never looked about him nor quailed in his grim work, for he
knew that greater terrors would yet surround him ere the fiend he was
summoning would appear. For if the _Gluasa-leabhra_ came to the
rescue of his tortured subject--this terrible king of the cats,
distinguished from all others of the mountain by his tiger-like
proportions and wondrous strength--Paul knew that _then_ would be the
critical moment of his fate; for if his heart failed him on hearing
the yell of this half-cat, half-demon, he must be overborne by the
whole living mass, which now covered the sides of the Coir nan
Uriskin; his body would be rent into a thousand pieces, and the
_future_ of Clan Alpine would never be learned!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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