第70章 A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.(63)

"And what would you have,gentlemen?"said Allan,turning suddenly from the Highlander with whom he was in conversation;

"would you yourselves have left an innocent female,the companion of your infancy,to die by violence,or perish by famine?There is not,by this time,a roof upon the habitation of my fathers--our crops have been destroyed,and our cattle have been driven--and you,gentlemen,have to bless God,that,coming from a milder and more civilized country,you expose only your own lives in this remorseless war,without apprehension that your enemies will visit with their vengeance the defenceless pledges you may have left behind you."

The Englishmen cordially agreed that they had the superiority in this respect;and the company,now dispersing,went each to his several charge or occupation.

Allan lingered a moment behind,still questioning the reluctant Ranald MacEagh upon a point in his supposed visions,by which he was greatly perplexed."Repeatedly,"he said,"have I had the sight of a Gael,who seemed to plunge his weapon into the body of Menteith,--of that young nobleman in the scarlet laced cloak,who has just now left the bothy.But by no effort,though I have gazed till my eyes were almost fixed in the sockets,can I discover the face of this Highlander,or even conjecture who he may be,although his person and air seem familiar to me."[See Note II.--Wraiths.]

"Have you reversed your own plaid,"said Ranald,"according to the rule of the experienced Seers in such case?"

"I have,"answered Allan,speaking low,and shuddering as if with internal agony.

"And in what guise did the phantom then appear to you?"said Ranald.

"With his plaid also reversed,"answered Allan,in the same low and convulsed tone.

"Then be assured,"said Ranald,"that your own hand,and none other,will do the deed of which you have witnessed the shadow."

"So has my anxious soul a hundred times surmised,"replied Allan.

"But it is impossible!Were I to read the record in the eternal book of fate,I would declare it impossible--we are bound by the ties of blood,and by a hundred ties more intimate--we have stood side by side in battle,and our swords have reeked with the blood of the same enemies--it is IMPOSSIBLE I should harm him!"

"That you WILL do so,"answered Ranald,"is certain,though the cause be hid in the darkness of futurity.You say,"he continued,suppressing his own emotions with difficulty,"that side by side you have pursued your prey like bloodhounds--have you never seen bloodhounds turn their fangs against each other,and fight over the body of a throttled deer?"

"It is false!"said M'Aulay,starting up,"these are not the forebodings of fate,but the temptation of some evil spirit from the bottomless pit!"So saying,he strode out of the cabin.

"Thou hast it!"said the Son of the Mist,looking after him with an air of exultation;"the barbed arrow is in thy side!Spirits of the slaughtered,rejoice!soon shall your murderers'swords be dyed in each other's blood."

On the succeeding morning all was prepared,and Montrose advanced by rapid marches up the river Tay,and poured his desultory forces into the romantic vale around the lake of the same name,which lies at the head of that river.The inhabitants were Campbells,not indeed the vassals of Argyle,but of the allied and kindred house of Glenorchy,which now bears the name of Breadalbane.Being taken by surprise,they were totally unprepared for resistance,and were compelled to be passive witnesses of the ravages which took place among their flocks and herds.Advancing in this manner to the vale of Loch Dochart,and laying waste the country around him,Montrose reached the most difficult point of his enterprise.

To a modern army,even with the assistance of the good military road which now leads up by Teinedrum to the head of Loch Awe,the passage of these extensive wilds would seem a task of some difficulty.But at this period,and for long afterwards,there was no road or path whatsoever;and to add to the difficulty,the mountains were already covered with snow.It was a sublime scene to look up to them,piled in great masses,one upon another,the front rank of dazzling whiteness,while those which arose behind them caught a rosy tint from the setting of a clear wintry sun.

Ben Cruachan,superior in magnitude,and seeming the very citadel of the Genius of the Region,rose high above the others,showing his glimmering and scathed peak to the distance of many miles.

The followers of Montrose were men not to be daunted by the sublime,yet terrible prospect before them.Many of them were of that ancient race of Highlanders,who not only willingly made their couch in the snow,but considered it as effeminate luxury to use a snowball for a pillow.Plunder and revenge lay beyond the frozen mountains which they beheld,and they did not permit themselves to be daunted by the difficulty of traversing them.

Montrose did not allow their spirits time to subside.He ordered the pipes to play in the van the ancient pibroch entitled,"HOGGIL NAM BO,"etc.(that is,We come through snow-drift to drive the prey),the shrilling sounds of which had often struck the vales of the Lennox with terror.[It is the family-march of the M'Farlanes,a warlike and predatory clan,who inhabited the western banks of Loch-Lomond.See WAVERLY,Note XV.]The troops advanced with the nimble alacrity of mountaineers,and were soon involved in the dangerous pass,through which Ranald acted as their guide,going before them with a select party,to track out the way.