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Ann an Arainn fada roimh so bha ri fhaotainn seòrsa de chreutairean glé neònach ris an abradh iad 'Na Mèileachain' - cha bu daoine iad 's cha bu bheathaichean iad. Thigeadh iad an sealladh gun iárraidh 's gun fhios cia as a thainig iad, agus nuair a dh' fhalbhadh iad cha mhotha bha fios c'àit' an deachaidh iad.
Bha aon de'n t-seòrsa so ré ùine fhada aig teaghlach a bha chòmhnuidh aig ceann mu dheas an eilein. Bhiodh e dol a mach 's a steach leis an eallaidh, agus a' laighe ann am baidheal fhalaimh aig ceann na bàthaiche. Fad na h-ùine a bha e aca cha'n fhacas riamh e ag itheadh, ach a h-uile oidhche an déidh do bhean-an-taighe an gealbhan a smàladh, thilgeadh i cràglach mine air an t-slabhraidh, agus nuair a dh' éireadh iad anns a' mhaduinn bhiodh i glan imlichte. Chaidh cùisean air an aghaidh mar so ré ùine fhada gus an do phòs mac an taighe. Aon latha 's e anabarrach fuar, thilg a' bhean og seana chòta air a' mhèileachan g' a dhìon o'n fhuachd, ach 's ann a ghabh an creutair bochd a leithid de thàmailt 's gu'n do thog e air, is dh'fhàg e an taigh a' caoineadh gu dubhach, agus cha'n fhacas riamh tuilleadh e. "Tha mi coma co dhiù" arsa seana-bhean-an taighe, "mur innis e dà rud - dé an éifeachd a tha ann am bun a' chlàdain , agus brìgh fallus an uibhe."
In Arran a long time ago was to be found a kind of curious creature called 'the bleaters' - they were neither man nor beast. They would come unbidden, whence no-one knew; and when they would take their departure it was unknown where they went.
A family in the south end of the island had one of this kind for a long time. He would be going out and in with the cattle, and lying in a cow-stall at the head of the byre. During the whole time he was with them he was never seen eating; but every night, after the good wife would smoor the fire, she would throw a handful of meal on the pot hanger, and when they arose in the morning it would be licked clean. Things went on this way for a long time until the son of the house married. One day, and it was very cold, the young wife threw an old coat over the Mèileachan to protect him from the cold, but the poor creature took such offence that he made off and left the house weeping sadly, and he was never seen any more. "I care not whatever", said the old wife of the house, "if he does not tell two things - what virtue is in the root of the burr, and what substance in the sweat of an egg".