(From the pages of the Christmas Number Of The Illustrated Sporting And Dramatic News, December 6, 1890)
THE STRANGE LIGHT ON THE HILL
by T.D.Croft
"How far to the ponies, Sandy?" said I.
And Sandy, performing the last rites over the dead stag, answered with true Scotch caution, "It will no be less than seven miles, whatever."
The pursuit had been a long one. The October sun had been high in the heavens when, just before noon, our glasses first showed us the seven brown specks which were the harem and the harem's lord. From the very first they had been uneasy, and always on the move, as if some suspicion of danger kept stirring them on. We had climbed the Blue Rocks-- the very highest bit of the forest-- to try and cut them off, and on reaching the summit, breathless and exhausted, found them still in front. We had wriggled for an hour through a black bog, till our garments were the colour of peat hags; we had washed them in a burn, where we had to lie for five-and-twenty minutes, because the deer had couched them for a siesta in the heather; and at last, just as the sun sank behind Ben Derig and the light began fast to fail, I had had my shot, and the hinds paused in their gallop to look back and see their master dead before his foes.
A good stag he was, ten points and full 16st weight, and the brawling and wriggling, the climbing and the drenching, were all forgotten in the triumph of success. But the toil was not over yet. Layer on layer the night came on," and by the time we had covered our victim with heather, to be brought home by the deer ponies next day, darkness was upon us, and we could hardly see five yards before our faces. It is no pleasant thing to have to cross a rough forest in the dark, now tripping over a rock, now stumbling into a burn, now clinging to the long grasses that fringe a precipice, and now racing down a steep descent where loose stones and long heather brought my weary feet to grief again and again.
Sandy and old John the gillie were most kind and considerate. To them this was only part of an ordinary day's work, and they kept slackening their pace that I might keep up with them, and uttering an occasional word of encouragement. Mr. C____ would be feeling very anxious now if he had not killed a big stag," said Sandy, helping me to rise after my fifth fall in as many minutes. It is a bad thing to go home after a vain shot."
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| Ghillie Willie Duff & Grandson 1850 |
And Sandy was quite right. It makes a great difference what answer one has to give to the question of "What sport?" as one enters the lodge, and I was hugging to myself the thought that a certain Miss Bright- eyes would be very pleased and sympathetic, and insist on having all particulars of my success before saying "good night." But yet - oh, for a gleam of moonshine to show one where to tread! There was none. Only one or two stars, whose twinkle made all around only appear more dark and black.
It seemed to me that we had walked a dozen miles at least, when, at last, I found the way becoming smoother, and knew that we had reached a long flat bit, the last of the high ground from which we should go by a zig-zag path - thoughtfully cut by my host in bygone years - down the side of the steep mountain, at the foot of which the ponies waited for us. Sandy came to my side instead of walking in front, and began to tell me a long story to cheer me up. It was about a pedlar, who was murdered and thrown into a loch we were passing. What on earth the pedlar was doing there, and why he was murdered, I couldn't quite make out. It was not for the sake of his pack, for that was thrown into the loch with him and floated therein till "the people aboot suspicioned there was something no richt."
Again I was puzzled to know what "people" could ever have been "aboot" that desolate spot, where I should have imagined that only the eagle, deer, and ptarmigan could have taken the remotest interest in the floating pack. However, they - I mean the "people aboot" - succeeded in catching the murderer, and condemned him to a most extraordinary death. They stripped him, tied his hands and feet - and left him for a couple of days and a night to the midges! After this he died-- and justice was satisfied. Sandy was careful to explain that this happened some hundred and fifty years ago, but he said it was quite true.
Anyhow it was a cheering tale, and helped me to forget the length of the walk. At last, we reached the top of the mountain, and to my great delight I found myself in the zig-zag path, where all was plain sailing. The path was very narrow, just cut for one, and we went down in single file, John first, then Sandy, myself third. We had only gone a few yards, when John uttered a startling exclamation in Gaelic, echoed by Sandy, and I saw far down below a bright light flash for a second and disappear.
"Hullo, Sandy, what's that?"
"Indeed, I am no very sure," was the answer.
I didn't think over much about it at the moment, but when we had gone a few yards down, again came the twofold expression of Gaelic surprise, and again the light flashed and was gone. John dropped back closer to Sandy, Sandy came back towards me.
"What is that light?" I asked.
We were walking very slowly now, and both my leaders halted, while Sandy answered -
"Indeed, Mr. C____ I have never yet seen anything like that licht."
"No, sir," added John, "it is no very canny."
On we went very slowly. Again the exclamation, again the light! A happy thought struck me.
"I know," I said ; "it is Donald with the ponies. He has come up the hill a little way so that I may ride, and he is lighting his pipe."
"Donald could no tak' the pownies there," said John.
And Sandy added, "It is no man that is making that licht."
I confess to feeling a little jumpy. When two men, whose whole lives have been passed on the mountain side, who know the forest in ever'y hour and every mood - when these men tell you that a flashing light you cannot understand is not the work of man, it is enough to make you feel ill at ease, to say the least of it.
We were getting nearer, and the light flashed on from time to time. The men kept very close together now, and occasionally whispered or muttered to each other in Gaelic. I could see that they were fairly scared. At last they halted.
"If I was alone," said John, "I would never pass that. I would just sleep here on the hill."
Sandy agreed with him altogether.
"Oh, nonsense," I said, "we must go on. It can't hurt us, any way!"
And on we trudged. Again the flash, and then for the first time I noticed that they saw it before I did. I began to understand the mystery.
"Stop directly you see that again," said I.
John stopped after a minute, and then we all halted and looked. The light stood still and did not disappear. It had only seemed to flash and go out because we only saw it at a particular bend of the zig-zag.
"Out with your glass, Sandy. What is it like?"
"It is like a star," said he, looking through his telescope.
"Quite so; and now look up."
Above us, the only planet to be seen, shone Jupiter, and now the murder was out. At every bend of the jratli we had caught the bright reflection of the star in a little pool of water far below us, and our moving on had made it disappear.
It seems strange indeed that the two experienced stalkers should have been so utterly puzzled. I can only say that I have told the story exactly as it happened that October night, and that the relief of the men when they saw the explanation of the mystery was something remarkable. They strode on laughing and joking, so fast that I could hardly keep up with them, and in another half-hour we were mounted and galloping along the path through the valley, trusting our necks to the surefooted hill ponies.
Five miles along the riverside, and then before us twinkled the lights of the lodge, and we were home. Miss Brighteyes was as pleased as I had hoped she would be, and after she had gone to bed it was long past midnight-- and I was reviving myself with collops and champagne, I told my host the story of the strange light. He was much interested, and told me that many years ago, in another forest, he and his stalker had seem something like it, and had been puzzled, but only for a minute. I think I may add that neither he nor I ever laughed at John and Sandy, or chaffed them in any way about the mystery. They are grand fellows, these stalkers, perfect gentlemen in their way, and will work till they drop to save you trouble or show your sport. What, matter, then, if they like to believe in "bogle" and "kelpie," or if they are always ready to class anything they can't quite understand as being "no very canny"?
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So that post was a bit different in that the strangeness was eventually easily explained away, but I thought I would post it anyway as it's still a nice spooky story and is a good warning that a lot of things seen on on cold dark nights might not always be supernatural...
Having said that, there are definitely experiences that defy immediate explanation, and I've had many such experiences myself.....which will be the topic of the last of my Spook Sightings post, which you can probably expect to appear on Halloween itself!
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