wherever
it was possible. 'Tis not in nature to walk unmoved across an open where
every bush may hide a sentinel who will let fly at one as gladly as at a
fat buck--yes, and be sure of thirty thousand pounds if he hit the right
mark. I longed for eyes in the back of my head, and every moment could
feel the lead pinging its way between my shoulder blades.

Major Macleod had from his youth stalked the wary stag, and every saugh
and birch and alder in our course was made to yield us its cover. Once a
muircock whirred from my very feet and brought my heart to my mouth.
Presently we topped the bluff and disappeared over its crest. Another hour
of steady tramping down hill and the blue waters of the sound stretched
before us. 'Twas time. My teeth chattered and my bones ached. I was
sick--sick--sick.

"And here we are at the last," cried the Major with a deep breath of
relief. "I played the gomeral brawly, but in the darkness we blundered
ram-stam through the Sassenach lines."

"'Fortuna favet fatuis,'" quoted the Young Chevalier. "Luck for fools! The
usurper's dragoons will have to wait another day for their thirty thousand
pounds. Eh, Montagu?" he asked me blithely; then stopped to stare at me
staggering down the beach. "What ails you, man?"

I was reeling blindly like a drunkard, and our Prince put an arm around my
waist. I resisted feebly, but he would have none of it; the arm of a
king's son (de jure) supported me to the boat.

We found as boatmen not only Murdoch Macleod but his older brother Young
Raasay, the only one of the family that had not been "out" with our army.
He had been kept away from the rebellion to save the family estates, but
his heart was none the less with us.

"And what folly is this, Ronald?" cried Malcolm when he saw the head of
the house on the links. "Murdoch and I are already as black as we can be,
but you were to keep clean of the Prince's affairs. It wad be a geyan ill
outcome gin we lost the estates after all. The red cock will aiblins craw
at Raasay for this."

"I wass threepin' so already, but he wass dooms thrang to come. He'll
maybe get his craig raxed (neck twisted) for his ploy," said Murdoch
composedly.

"By Heaven, Malcolm, I'll play the trimmer no longer. Raasay serves his
Prince though it cost both the estate and his head," cried the young
chieftain hotly.

"In God's name then let us get away before the militia or the sidier roy
(red soldiers) fall in with us. In the woody