ce would be the Island of Rasay. Old Rasay had been 'out' and was in
hiding, his second son was recovering from a wound received at Culloden,
and the eldest, though he had kept quiet from motives of prudence, was
quite as keen a Jacobite as the other two. Their eagerness to serve the
Prince could be relied on, and as the island had been recently
devastated by the Government soldiers, it was not likely to be visited
again.

Donald Roy undertook to see young MacLeod of Rasay and to make
arrangements for meeting the Prince at Portree next day, while
Kingsburgh promised to carry the Prince off with him to his own house
and to send him next day under safe guidance to Portree. In this way,
whatever happened, Lady Margaret would not be compromised.

So the garden conclave broke up, and the three separated. Lady Margaret
returned to her drawing-room, where, poor woman, she sadly disconcerted
Miss Macdonald by nervously going in and out of the room. However, the
lieutenant seems to have been too much taken up with his companion to
notice his hostess's demeanour. Donald Roy, in spite of his lame foot,
set off for Portree in search of young Rasay, and old Kingsburgh hurried
off to look for Charles, carrying refreshments with him. Not finding him
on the shore below the garden, the old man walked on rather anxiously
till, seeing some sheep running, he concluded that someone must have
disturbed them, and went to the spot. A tall, ungainly woman in a long
cloak started forward to meet him brandishing a big knotted stick. As
soon as Kingsburgh named himself the Prince knew that he had found a
friend, and placed himself in his hands with the frank confidence he
always showed in dealing with his Highland followers, a confidence which
they so nobly justified.

After the Prince had had something to eat and drink, the pair set out to
walk to Kingsburgh, a considerable distance off. Unfortunately it was
Sunday, and they met many country people returning from church, who were
all eager to have a little business chat with Sir Alexander's factor. He
got rid of most of them by slyly reminding them of the sacredness of the
day, for the Prince's awkward movements and masculine stride made his
disguise very apparent. 'They may call you the Pretender,' cried
Kingsburgh, between annoyance and amusement, 'but I never knew anyone so
bad at your trade.'

At the first stream they had to cross the Prince lifted his skirts with
a most masculine disrega