One evening, in the company of some fellow drovers, he announced his intention to tackle the fierce peaks of Kilimabunion. His fellow drovers looked on aghast. Sonny Jim, a gormless lad with a face like a plateful of mortal sins and erstwhile village idiot opined.

The aghast drovers were now speechless. It was left to ‘Buck’ Sweeney, a well dressed muck spreader to reply. "What is an eegit like yourself doing, in your condtion and at your time of life, talking in such suffocated language. God knows what inflatable damage you could be doing". Sonny Jim, now sucking his thumb, stared blankly into space. Such illiterate vocabulary was totally alien to him. Undaunted the drover Jordan set out at first light and conquered the fierce peaks of Kilimabunion. He drove home triumphantly, anticipating a celebratory visit to the nearest hostelry. As he reached the bottom of the notorious Botany Brae, his car broke down. The drover, Jordan was not specifically well-versed in the intercourses of the motor car. Apart from driving, the only motoring skill he had perfected over the years was in the art of lifting the bonnet. He got out the car, lifted the bonnet and immediately noted the presence of an engine. Amid the eerie silence of this far flung outpost, a voice cried out, "Check and tighten the battery terminals", followed by further instruction on how this should be done. Then the voice said, "Check the coil connections are secure", followed by more instructions. Finally, the voice said, "Get back in the car and try the ignition". The car started immediately. A relieved drover Jordan got out to see who had come to his aid. There was nobody about except for a black horse leaning against a gate. He checked out a few paths nearby but found nobody. As he passed the black horse, it looked at him hauntingly with deep penetrating eyes. A fearsome shiver spread through the drovers body. He ran to the car and drove off at full speed, not stopping until he reached the nearest hostelry some miles away.

The ploughman O’Hara, a fine figure of a man with a dazzling smile and deep penetrating eyes, not unlike those of the black horse, was already there. He was enjoying a pint of foaming stout and eating his lunch. It was a ploughman’s lunch. They were soon engaged in conversation and the drover Jordan recoiled his tale. He could be an obnoxious creature at times.

When asked what he made of the story, the ploughman O’Hara turned and asked for further clarification on some salient points.

"Would this be at the foot of Botany Brae then?" he inquired. The drover Jordan nodded. "And a black horse was leaning against a gate?" Again the drover nodded. After a few mouthfuls of deep deliberation the ploughman O’Hara asked, "Do you know what I’m going to tell you?" "No" answered the drover Jordan. "Well then I’ll tell you", returned the ploughman. "You are a very fortunate fellow you know. You have had a very narrow escape coupled with an extremely close shave". "Is that a fact now?", asked the drover Jordan. "It most certainly is", answered the ploughman O’Hara. "You see it’s usually a white horse that leans against that gate at the foot of Botany Brae and he doesn’t know a thing about cars".