t the end of a pole, called a Lochaber-axe,
[Footnote: See Note 14] and the other a long ducking-gun. Evan, upon
Edward's inquiry, gave him to understand that this martial escort was by
no means necessary as a guard, but merely, as he said, drawing up and
adjusting his plaid with an air of dignity, that he might appear decently
at Tully-Veolan, and as Vich Ian Vohr's foster-brother ought to do. 'Ah!'
said he, 'if you Saxon duinhe-wassel (English gentleman) saw but the
Chief with his tail on!'

'With his tail on?' echoed Edward in some surprise.

'Yes--that is, with all his usual followers, when he visits those of the
same rank. There is,' he continued, stopping and drawing himself proudly
up, while he counted upon his fingers the several officers of his chief's
retinue; 'there is his hanchman, or right-hand man; then his bard, or
poet; then his bladier, or orator, to make harangues to the great folks
whom he visits; then his gilly-more, or armour-bearer, to carry his sword
and target, and his gun; then his gilly-casfliuch, who carries him on his
back through the sikes and brooks; then his gilly-comstrian, to lead his
horse by the bridle in steep and difficult paths; then his
gilly-trushharnish, to carry his knapsack; and the piper and the piper's
man, and it may be a dozen young lads beside, that have no business, but
are just boys of the belt, to follow the Laird and do his honour's
bidding.'

'And does your Chief regularly maintain all these men?' demanded
Waverley.

'All these?' replied Evan; 'ay, and many a fair head beside, that would
not ken where to lay itself, but for the mickle barn at Glennaquoich.'

With similar tales of the grandeur of the Chief in peace and war, Evan
Dhu beguiled the way till they approached more closely those huge
mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It was
towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous passes which afford
communication between the high and low country; the path, which was
extremely steep and rugged, winded up a chasm between two tremendous
rocks, following the passage which a foaming stream, that brawled far
below, appeared to have worn for itself in the course of ages. A few
slanting beams of the sun, which was now setting, reached the water in
its darksome bed, and showed it partially, chafed by a hundred rocks and
broken by a hundred falls. The descent from the path to the stream was a
mere precipice, with here and there a projecting