eople were suspicious of the Stuarts
because the kings of that ill-fated line were intoxicated with the
idea of divine right, and were ever clutching at absolute power; nor
had the MacKays any overwhelming and reverential love for bishops,
because they considered them to be the instruments of royal tyranny
and the oppressors of the kirk. MacKay has found a place between
Collier and Venner, and as he sits leaning back against a saddle and
to all appearance half asleep, the firelight falls on his broad,
powerful, but rather awkward figure, and on a strong, determined face,
which in its severity is well set off by his close-cut sandy hair.
Although one would judge him to be dozing, or at least absorbed in his
own thoughts, if anything is said which arrests him, he will cast a
quick look on the speaker, and then one marks that his eyes are steely
gray, cold and penetrating, but also brave and honest. By and by he
rouses himself, and taking a book out of an inner pocket, and leaning
sideways towards the fire, he begins to read, and secludes himself
from the camp talk. Venner notices that it is a Bible, and opens his
mouth to ask him whether he can give him the latest news about the
fifth monarchy which made a windmill in his poor father's head, but,
catching sight of MacKay's grim profile, thinks better and only
shrugs his shoulders. For MacKay was not a man whose face or manner
invited jesting.

Upon the other side of the fire, so that the two men could only catch
occasional and uncertain glimpses of each other through the smoke, as
was to be their lot in after days, lay the other Scot in careless
grace, supporting his head upon his hand, quite at his ease and in
good fellowship with all his comrades. If MacKay marked a contrast to
the characteristic Celt of hot blood and wayward impulses, by his
reserve and self-control, John Graham was quite unlike the average
Lowlander by the spirit of feudal prejudice and romantic sentiment, of
uncalculating devotion and loyalty to dead ideals, which burned within
his heart, and were to drive him headlong on his troubled and
disastrous career. A kinsman of the great Montrose and born of a line
which traced its origin to Scottish kings, the child of a line of
fighting cavaliers, he loathed Presbyterians, their faith and their
habits together, counting them fanatics by inherent disposition and
traitors whenever opportunity offered. He was devoted to the Episcopal
Church of Scotland, and