Wildfire at Midnight by Mary Stewart Read Free Book Online Page A

us, a tough little heather-clad hill which blocked the center of the glen and held the southern shore of the loch. To
    the left of it curved the river; on the east a ridge and heather joined it to the skirts of Blaven.
    "Isn't there a path along the river?" I asked.
    "Oh, yes, but if you want to climb An't Sron-in front—for a view of the loch, we'd better keep to Blaven side of the glen. There's a bog farther on, the river, which isn't too pleasant."
    "Dangerous, you mean, or merely wet?"
    "Both. I don't know whether it would actually open swallow you up, but the ground shakes in a beastly fashion, and you start to sink if you stand still. The deer avoid it/"
    "Then," I said with a shiver, "by all means let us avoid' :^ it too. It seems I ought to be very grateful to you for coming with me!"
    He laughed. "It's actually pure selfishness on my part. If one loves a place very much one likes to show it off. I wasn't going to miss a fresh opportunity for taking credit to myself for this scenery. It must be one of the loveliest corners of the world."
    "This particular corner, do you mean, or Skye and the Islands in general?"
    "This bit of Skye." His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, but his eyes lifted briefly to the distant peaks, and to the great blue heights of Blaven dwarfing the glen where we walked. "Those."
    "Is this your home, Mr. Grant?"

    He shook his head. "No I was born among mountains, but very different ones. My father was minister of a tiny parish away up in the Cairngorms, a little lost village at the back of the north wind. Auchlechtie, at the foot of Bheinn a' Bhuird. D'you know it?"
    "I'm afraid not."
    He grinned. "I've never yet met anyone who did.... Well, that's where I learned my mountain worship! Pd no mother; my father was a remote kind of man, who had very little time for me; it was miles to school, so as often as not I just ran wild in the hills."
    "You must have been a very lonely little boy."
    "Perhaps I was. I don't remember. I don't think I feel lonely." He grinned again. "That is, until an uncle died, and left us a lot of money, and my father made me pot shoes on and go to a public school to learn manners.
    "That was bad luck."
    :f
    "I hated it, of course. Particularly the shoes
    "And now you spend your time climbing?"
    "Pretty well. I travel a bit—but 1 always seem to end up here, at. any rate in May and June. They're the best months in the West, although" -he flung a quick glance over his shoulder—"1 think our friend Beagle was right about the weather. We'll have rain tomorrow, for certain, and once the Cuillin get a good grip on a rainstorm, they're very reluctant to let it go.'"
    "Oh dear," I said, "and I was wanting to walk. I begin to see why people take up fishing here. It must be sheer self-defense."
    "Very possibly. Watch your step, now. It's tricky going in this light."
    We had reached the foot of the little hill called An't Sron, and began to climb the rough heathery slope. A cock grouse rose with a clap from somewhere near at hand, and planed down towards the river, chakking indignantly. The light had faded perceptibly. Like an enormous storm cloud above the valley Blaven loomed, and behind his massive edge hung, now, the ghost of a white moon past the full.
    Roderick Grant paused for a moment in his stride, and looked thoughtfully up at the wicked ridges shouldering the sky.
    "I wonder if those two fool women will really go up there tomorrow?" "Is it a bad climb?"
    "Not if you know which way to go. Straight up the south ridge it's only a scramble. But there are nasty places even there."
    "Miss Bradford said she knew her way about," I said.
    A smile touched his mouth. "She did, didn't she? Well, we can't do much about it."
    "I suppose not." We were more than halfway up the little hill. The going was getting steeper and rougher.
    "Mr. Grant," I said, a little breathlessly.
    "Yes?"
    I hesitated, then said flatly: "What did Miss Bradford mean about a hoodoo on Blaven? What's