ut when the wounded
warriors began to come in, breathless, gashed, and bleeding, with the
report of their disaster, he found it impossible to restrain the people.
The young warriors ignominiously left the place and fled, while the
women followed, carrying their children and such of their worldly goods
as they were loath to leave behind. For some time McTavish managed to
restrain the latter, but when at last the hunters came thundering back
after their bloodless victory, the poor women, fancying they were the
enemy, flung down goods, and even babies, and ran.

The horsemen called out to assure them they were friends, but their
terror was too great to permit of their comprehending, and they
continued to fly.

"Come, Charlie, we must head these poor creatures, and drive them back,"
said Hans, as he rode over ground which was strewn with utensils,
mantles, and victuals, among which many little black and naked children
were seen running, stumbling, tottering, or creeping, according to age
and courage.

Followed by the other horsemen, they rode ahead of the flying multitude,
and, cracking their whips menacingly in front, with an occasional
charge, they succeeded in staying the flight and turning the poor women
back. No sooner did these comprehend how matters stood than they
turned, and caught up their little ones with as much affection and
thankfulness as if they had just shown a readiness to die for, rather
than forsake, them.

Among these children was one who, although as black as the ace of spades
in body and face, had light curly flaxen hair. He ran about in a wild
unaccountable manner, darting hither and thither, from side to side.

McTavish and the others, who had by that time dismounted, and were
standing at their horses' heads amused spectators of the scene, looked
at this urchin in surprise, until they observed that he was endeavouring
to escape from a stout young woman who did her best to catch him. She
had nearly succeeded, when he suddenly doubled like a hare and bore
straight down on the horsemen. Seeing this, the woman gave in, and,
turning, fled to the town, while the little fellow ran and clasped the
Highlander by the knees.

"Oh! Miss'r Tavish!" he cried, and looked up.

"Ah! why--it's Junkie!" cried the Highlander, catching the child up in
his arms and hugging him, by which means he left a dark imprint of him
on his own breast and face.

It was indeed Junkie--naked as on the day of his birth,