"Dugald," said the colonel, "I will not argue with you about the second sight, because I know you have some pretensions to the character of a _taischatr_. You certainly have me at vantage there, and your prediction about the shot at Arroya came true; and exactly twenty-four hours after you said my hand dropped blood, a musquet-shot passed through it. A very singular coincidence indeed." "It was nane," replied the old Gael firmly, "it was nane; and I saw the shot before it came, because there was a wreath before my een, and a’ the power o’ the _taisch_ was in me." "Well, Stuart, what think you of the second sight?" Ronald was loath to express his disbelief in this superstition, which found a disciple in the colonel, and so hesitated to reply. "I see you are too true a Highlander to disbelieve in its existence, and yet you are reluctant to acknowledge the truth," said Fassifern laughing, while he mistook the other’s meaning. "But let us reach Banos, and over some of the bottled sherry which I lately got from Lisbon we will discuss these matters, and hear Dugald’s story of the spirit of Glenmore, which if you are at all superstitious might have too much effect if related by him in Gaelic by moonlight, and on a lonely hill-side." This proposal was at once accepted, and they began to descend the narrow and winding pathway which led from the rugged summits of the sierra towards the village. Dugald advanced in front, leading the horse of Cameron, who followed behind with Stuart. The latter thanked his stars for escaping from his late encounter so easily, having only sustained a few severe scratches and bruises. While enjoying some of the colonel’s pure bottled sherry, a rarity in Spain, where the wine is ever kept in greasy hog-skins, Ronald soon forgot his disagreeable adventure at the abogado’s cross. Dugald who, in consideration of his venerable age and relationship to Fassifern (being a fortieth cousin or so), was seated at the table, partook of the wine, and to wile away the time related in Gaelic the Highland legend he had referred to. Many readers may consider it a foolish, perhaps an intrusive tale altogether; but had they heard it far away from home, in a hut at Banos, related in expressive and poetical Gaelic by such a reverend and warrior-looking old man as Dugald Cameron, it would have had a very different effect from what it can ever produce when related in plain and unvarnished English, stripped of all the Ossianic description and style in which Ronald Stuart first heard it. *The Lham-Dearg*