of the deer appeared at the head of the glen,
compelled into a very narrow compass, and presenting such a formidable
phalanx that their antlers appeared at a distance, over the ridge of the
steep pass, like a leafless grove. Their number was very great, and from
a desperate stand which they made, with the tallest of the red-deer stags
arranged in front, in a sort of battle-array, gazing on the group which
barred their passage down the glen, the more experienced sportsmen began
to augur danger. The work of destruction, however, now commenced on all
sides. Dogs and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees resounded
from every quarter. The deer, driven to desperation, made at length a
fearful charge right upon the spot where the more distinguished sportsmen
had taken their stand. The word was given in Gaelic to fling themselves
upon their faces; but Waverley, on whose English ears the signal was
lost, had almost fallen a sacrifice to his ignorance of the ancient
language in which it was communicated. Fergus, observing his danger,
sprung up and pulled him with violence to the ground, just as the whole
herd broke down upon them. The tide being absolutely irresistible, and
wounds from a stag's horn highly dangerous, the activity of the Chieftain
may be considered, on this occasion, as having saved his guest's life. He
detained him with a firm grasp until the whole herd of deer had fairly
run over them. Waverley then attempted to rise, but found that he had
suffered several very severe contusions, and, upon a further examination,
discovered that he had sprained his ankle violently.

[Footnote: The thrust from the tynes, or branches, of the stag's horns
was accounted far more dangerous than those of the boar's tusk:--

If thou be hurt with horn of stag,
it brings thee to thy bier,
But barber's hand shall boar's hurt heal,
thereof have thou no fear.]

This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the Highlanders,
accustomed to such incidents, and prepared for them, had suffered no harm
themselves. A wigwam was erected almost in an instant, where Edward was
deposited on a couch of heather. The surgeon, or he who assumed the
office, appeared to unite the characters of a leech and a conjuror. He
was an old smoke-dried Highlander, wearing a venerable grey beard, and
having for his sole garment a tartan frock, the skirts of which descended
to the knee, and, being undivided in front, made the vestment serve at