Fingal now to pull him down like a wolf! But labouring and lumbering
heavily along, the snow spotted as he bounds with blood, the huge animal
at last disappears round some rocks at the head of the glen. "Follow me,
Flora!" the boy-hunter cries--and flinging down their plaids, they turn
their bright faces to the mountain, and away up the long glen after the
stricken deer. Fleet was the mountain-girl--and Ranald, as he ever and
anon looked back to wave her on, with pride admired her lightsome motion
as she bounded along the snow. Redder and redder grew that snow, and
more heavily trampled, as they winded round the rocks. Yonder is the
deer staggering up the mountain, not half a mile off--now standing at
bay, as if before his swimming eyes came Fingal, the terror of the
forest, whose howl was known to all the echoes, and quailed the herd
while their antlers were yet afar off. "Rest, Flora! rest! while I fly
to him with my rifle--and shoot him through the heart!"

Up--up--up the interminable glen, that kept winding and winding round
many a jutting promontory, and many a castellated cliff, the red-deer
kept dragging his gore-oozing bulk, sometimes almost within, and then,
for some hundreds of yards, just beyond rifle-shot; while the boy,
maddened by the chase, pressed forwards, now all alone, nor any more
looking behind for Flora, who had entirely disappeared; and thus he was
hurried on for miles by the whirlwind of passion--till at last he struck
the noble quarry, and down sank the antlers in the snow, while the air
was spurned by the convulsive beatings of feet. Then leaped Ranald upon
the Red-deer like a beast of prey, and lifted up a look of triumph to
the mountain-tops.

Where is Flora? Her lover has forgotten her--and he is alone--nor knows
it--he and the Red-deer--an enormous animal--fast stiffening in the
frost of death.

Some large flakes of snow are in the air, and they seem to waver and
whirl, though an hour ago there was not a breath. Faster they fall and
faster--the flakes are almost as large as leaves--and overhead whence so
suddenly has come that huge yellow cloud? "Flora, where are you? where
are you, Flora?" and from the huge hide the boy leaps up, and sees that
no Flora is at hand. But yonder is a moving speck far off upon the snow!
'Tis she--'tis she--and again Ranald turns his eyes upon the quarry, and
the heart of the hunter burns within him like a new-stirred fire. Shrill
as the eagle's cry disturbed