Tradition says that John Garbh of Raasay was drowned through the machinations of a witch. She bore him a grudge, and while the boat was at sea she sat in her hut rocking a basin of milk in which there was a clam shell to represent the boat. When she sank the clam shell the boat sank, the story being that a crow alighted on the gunwale, and that Mac Leod, in trying to kill it with his sword, cut the boat to the waters’ edge. There are several improbable things about this tradition, not the least obvious of which is the impossibility of knowing how the boat sank when no one was left to tell the tale. However, it is a tradition—that much at least is true. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIII. SOME WELL-KNOWN GATHERINGS. “Ye voices of Cona, of high swelling power, Ye bards who can sing of her olden time, On whose spirits arise the blue panoplied throng Of her ancient hosts, who are mighty and strong, My bards raise the song.” —_Ossian._ A Tune with four stories—The Carles wi’ the Breeks—The Mac Gregor’s Gathering—Scott’s verses—_Caber Feidh_—The Camerons’ Gathering—Well- matched chiefs—The Loch of the Sword. The first tune to be noticed in this chapter is peculiar in this respect, that whereas to many are ascribed two origins, to this there are ascribed three or four. More than one cannot possibly be correct, unless we conclude that different pipers at different times in different places and without any co-operation, composed the same tune. That is rather too much, however, but we will give the stories as they are to be found in many books of Highland history and tradition. In the first place, then, this tune has three names. It is known as “THE BREADALBANE GATHERING” (or March), “Wives of this Glen,” and _Bodaich nam Briogais_ (“The Carles wi’ the Breeks”), and each name applies to the air as it is associated with a certain district of Scotland. As “Lord Breadalbane’s March” it is noticed in an old hymn-book by _Iain Bàn Caimbeul_, first published in 1786, and afterwards in 1834. This book associated it with Coll Kitto, mentioned in a previous chapter, and gives a long story of raiding and plundering in which this worthy was engaged about 1644. At one stage in the exploits, when his enemies were fleeing, the Baronet of Lochawe ordered his piper to compose a march tune suitable for the occasion, and to keep playing all night. This the piper did, and his tune was _Bodaich nam Briogais_. There is certainly an air of authenticity about the story, and the details bear the stamp of probability if not of truth.