e with more confidence
toward the castle of Vich Ian Vohr. The "five miles Scots" seemed to
stretch themselves out indefinitely, but at last the figure of a hunter,
equipped with gun, dogs, and a single attendant, was seen far across the
heath.

"_Shogh_," said the man with the Lochaber axe, "tat's the Chief!"

Evan Dhu, who had boasted of his master's great retinue, denied it
fiercely.

"The Chief," he said, "would not come out with never a soul with him but
Callum Beg, to meet with an English gentleman."

But in spite of this prophecy, the Chief of Clan Ivor it was. Fergus
Mac-Ivor, whom his people called Vich Ian Vohr, was a young man of much
grace and dignity, educated in France, and of a strong, secret, and
turbulent character, which by policy he hid for the most part under an
appearance of courtesy and kindness. He had long been mustering his clan
in secret, in order once more to take a leading part in another attempt
to dethrone King George, and to set on the throne of Britain either the
Chevalier St. George or his son Prince Charles.

When Waverley and the Chief approached the castle--a stern and rugged
pile, surrounded by walls, they found a large body of armed Highlanders
drawn up before the gate.

"These," said Vich Ian Vohr, carelessly, "are a part of the clan whom I
ordered out, to see that they were in a fit state to defend the country
in such troublous times. Would Captain Waverley care to see them go
through part of their exercise?"

Thereupon the men, after showing their dexterity at drill, and their
fine target-shooting, divided into two parties, and went through the
incidents of a battle--the charge, the combat, the flight, and the
headlong pursuit--all to the sound of the great warpipes.

Edward asked why, with so large a force, the Chief did not at once put
down such robber bands as that of Donald Bean Lean.

"Because," said the Chief, bitterly, "if I did, I should at once be
summoned to Stirling Castle to deliver up the few broadswords the
government has left us. I should gain little by that. But there is
dinner," he added, as if anxious to change the subject, "let me show you
the inside of my rude mansion."

The long and crowded dinner-table to which Edward sat down, told of the
Chief's immense hospitality. After the meal, healths were drunk, and the
bard of the clan recited a wild and thrilling poem in Gaelic--of which,
of course, Edward could not understand so much as one word, thoug