[Illustration:  THE PASS.]

We soon reached the road named by the shepherd, which was made of large loose stones.  But was it a road?  Scotland can boast of many good roads, and has material always at hand both for construction and repair; but of all the roads we ever travelled on, this was the worst!  Presently we came to a lonely cottage, the last we were to see that day, and we called to inquire the way, but no English was spoken there.  This was unfortunate, as we were in doubt as to which was our road, so we had to find our way as best we could.  Huge rocks and great mountains reared their heads on all sides of us, including Ben Nevis, which we could recognise owing to the snowy coverlet still covering his head.  The country became very desolate, with nothing to be seen but huge rocks, inaccessible to all except the pedestrian.  Hour after hour we toiled up mountains—­sometimes we thought we reached an elevation of two thousand feet—­and then we descended into a deep ravine near a small loch.  Who could forget a day’s march like this, now soaring to an immense height and presently appearing to descend into the very bowels of the earth!  We must have diverged somewhat from the road known as the “Devil’s Staircase,” by repute the worst road in Britain, for the track we were on was in one section like the bed of a mountain torrent and could not have been used even by cattle.  Late in the afternoon we reached the proper track, and came up with several herds of bullocks, about three hundred in number, all told, that were being driven over the mountains to find a better home in England, which we ourselves hoped to do later.

[Illustration:  IN GLENCOE.]

We were fortunate in meeting the owner, with whom we were delighted to enter into conversation.  When we told him of our adventures, he said we must have missed our way, and congratulated us on having a fine day, as many persons had lost their lives on those hills owing to the sudden appearance of clouds.  He said a heap of stones we passed marked the spot where two young men had been found dead.  They were attempting to descend the “Devil’s Stair,” when the mist came on, and they wandered about in the frost until, overcome by sleep, they lay down never to rise again in this world.

He had never been in England, but had done business with many of the nobility and gentlemen there, of whom several he named belonged to our own county of Chester.  He had heard that the bullocks he sold to them, after feeding on the rich, pastures of England for a short time, grew to a considerable size, which we thought was not to be wondered at, considering the hardships these shaggy-looking creatures had to battle with in the North.  We got some information about our farther way, not the least important being the fact that there was a good inn in the Pass of Glencoe; and he advised us to push on, as the night would soon be coming down.

[Illustration:  THE PASS IN GLENCOE.]