©limbing the fEaleon’s ©rag.

HE hero of my story was named David Burns. He was just a
little Scottish shepherd laddie, running almost as wild over the
hills as the sheep he tended, and as happy as the lark that sang
in the blue heavens.

David worked for the great laird of Clunie, wno lived at

the castle in the valley, and owned all the country round about.

One fine morning, late in the spring, as young Burns was

about his work on the hill-side, he heard a voice call from above,

“Hallo, David!” and looking up, saw standing there a lad of about his.own age,

at sight of whom our hero snatched off his weather-stained cap and stood bare-

headed, his eyes glistening with pleasure, for this was Master Willie of Clunie,
whose father David served.

“I’m home for the holidays,” the young laird said, “and I’ve been hunting
for you everywhere to know if you have kept your promise, and found an
eagle’s nest for us to visit together ?”

“I’m blithe to see ye hame an’ lookin’ sa bonnie. As for the nest I ken
the whereabouts of one. I was just waiting till the wee birdies was grown a
bit before I climbed down an’ gathered one for ye, sir,’ David replied.

‘Well, we'll go together this morning; that will be better fun.”

“Na; it’s naa gude day for the likes of you, sir, to be amongst the hill-tops.
See how thick the mistslay there. We maunwaita clearer day, an’ take some
of the men folks alang.”

‘Where is the place?” questioned the other.

“Amongst the Falcons’ Crag, up Ben Clunie.”

“Why, that’s not so far,” Willie answered. ‘It’s much better sport to go
by ourselves.” And then, when David sturdily shook his head, he added,
‘Well, I’m going, at any rate. [Pm not afraid. You can do as you please;”
and turning on his heel, the boy stalked angrily away.

David stood looking after the retreating figure somewhat sadly, for he loved
his young master most devotedly, and would willingly have risked life and
limb for hissake. What was he to do? Sit quietly there and let Master Willie
climb the Falcons’ Crag by himself, and perhaps get lost in the white mist that
hung about the mountain-top so thickly?

For David knew how many ashepherd had lost his life amongst the hills |
at such atime by falling into some deep gap, and been dashed to pieces hundreds