meful to part without it trial of
skill, and therefore he took the freedom to invite any gentleman of the
Stewarts present to exchange a few blows with him for the honour of their
respective clans. The brother-in-law of Appin, and second chieftain of
the clan, Alaster Stewart of Invernahyle, accepted the challenge, and
they encountered with broadsword and target before their respective
kinsmen.*

* Some accounts state that Appin himself was Rob Roy's antagonist on this
occasion. My recollection, from the account of Invernahyle himself, was
as stated in the text. But the period when I received the information is
now so distant, that it is possible I may be mistaken. Invernahyle was
rather of low stature, but very well made, athletic, and an excellent
swordsman.

The combat lasted till Rob received a slight wound in the arm, which was
the usual termination of such a combat when fought for honour only, and
not with a mortal purpose. Rob Roy dropped his point, and congratulated
his adversary on having been the first man who ever drew blood from him.
The victor generously acknowledged, that without the advantage of youth,
and the agility accompanying it, he probably could not have come off with
advantage.

This was probably one of Rob Roy's last exploits in arms. The time of his
death is not known with certainty, but he is generally said to have
survived 1738, and to have died an aged man. When he found himself
approaching his final change, he expressed some contrition for particular
parts of his life. His wife laughed at these scruples of conscience, and
exhorted him to die like a man, as he had lived. In reply, he rebuked her
for her violent passions, and the counsels she had given him. "You have
put strife," he said, "betwixt me and the best men of the country, and
now you would place enmity between me and my God."

There is a tradition, no way inconsistent with the former, if the
character of Rob Roy be justly considered, that while on his deathbed, he
learned that a person with whom he was at enmity proposed to visit him.
"Raise me from my bed," said the invalid; "throw my plaid around me, and
bring me my claymore, dirk, and pistols--it shall never be said that a
foeman saw Rob Roy MacGregor defenceless and unarmed." His foeman,
conjectured to be one of the MacLarens before and after mentioned,
entered and paid his compliments, inquiring after the health of his
formidable neighbour. Rob Roy maintained a cold haughty