n fancy no one better able to
carry it through successfully than the two gentlemen who have done more
delicate and dangerous work in the ranks of the honourable Scots
Brigade."

"I can say for myself," said John, "that there's not a man in Keppoch
could guess my nativity or my politics if I had on another tartan than
that of the Diarmaid."

"Ah! you have the tongue, no doubt of it," said Argile, smiling; "and if
a change of colour would make your task less hazardous, why not effect
it? I'm sure we could accommodate you with some neutral fabric for kilt
and plaid."

"For the humour of the thing," said John, "I would like to try it; but
I have no notion of getting hanged for a spy. James Grahame of Montrose
has enough knowledge of the polite arts of war to know the difference
between a spy in his camp in a false uniform and a scout taking all the
risks of the road by wearing his own colours. In the one case he would
hang us offhand, in the other there's a hair's-breadth of chance that he
might keep us as hostages."

"But in any tartan, cousin, you're not going to let yourself be caught,"
said Argile. "We have too much need for you here. Indeed, if I thought
you were not certain to get through all right, I would send cheaper men
in your place."

John laughed.

"There's no more cure," said he, "for death in a common herd than for
the same murrain in an ensign of foot."

"A scholar's sentiment!" cried Argile. "Are you taking to the
philosophies?"

"It's the sentiment, or something like it, of your chaplain, Master
Gordon," said John; "he reproved me with it on Dunchuach. But to do
myself justice, I was never one who would run another into any danger I
was unwilling to face myself."

The Marquis said no more, so we set about preparing for the journey.

"Well, Elrigmore, here we are running the loupegarthe with MacDonalds
on the one side of us and Camerons on the other," said my comrade, as we
set out at the mouth of the evening, after parting from a number of the
clan who went up to the right at Spean to do some harrying in Glen Roy.

No gavilliger or provost-marshal ever gave a more hazardous gauntlet
to run, thought I, and I said as much; but my musings brought only a
good-humoured banter from my friend.

All night we walked on a deserted rocky roadway under moon and star.
By the side of Loch Lochy there was not a light to be seen; even the
solitary dwellings we crept bye in the early part of our journey wer