Major Dalgetty, keeping his eye on Allan as he spoke, introduced
Ranald MacEagh under the fictitious name of Ranald MacGillihuron

in Benbecula, who had escaped with him out of Argyle's prison.
He recommended him as a person skilful in the arts of the harper

and the senachie, and by no means contemptible in the quality of
a second-sighted person or seer. While making this exposition,

Major Dalgetty stammered and hesitated in a way so unlike the
usual glib forwardness of his manner, that he could not have

failed to have given suspicion to Allan M'Aulay, had not that
person's whole attention been engaged in steadily perusing the

features of the person thus introduced to him. This steady gaze
so much embarrassed Ranald MacEagh, that his hand was beginning

to sink down towards his dagger, in expectation of a hostile
assault, when Allan, suddenly crossing the floor of the hut,

extended his hand to him in the way of friendly greeting. They
sat down side by side, and conversed in a low mysterious tone of

voice. Menteith and Angus M'Aulay were not surprised at this,
for there prevailed among the Highlanders who pretended to the

second-sight, a sort of Freemasonry, which generally induced
them, upon meeting, to hold communication with each other on the

nature and extent of their visionary experiences.
"Does the sight come gloomy upon your spirits?" said Allan to

his new acquaintance.
"As dark as the shadow upon the moon," replied Ranald, "when she

is darkened in her mid-course in heaven, and prophets foretell of
evil times."

"Come hither," said Allan, "come more this way, I would converse
with you apart; for men say that in your distant islands the

sight is poured forth with more clearness and power than upon us,
who dwell near the Sassenach."

While they were plunged into their mysticconference, the two
English cavaliers entered the cabin in the highest possible

spirits, and announced to Angus M'Aulay that orders had been
issued that all should hold themselves in readiness for an

immediate march to the westward. Having delivered themselves of
their news with much glee, they paid their compliments to their

old acquaintance Major Dalgetty, whom they instantly recognised,
and enquired after the health of his charger" target="_blank" title="n.军马；委托者；控诉者">charger, Gustavus.

"I humbly thank you, gentlemen," answered the soldier, "Gustavas
is well, though, like his master, somewhat barer on the ribs than

when you offered to relieve me of him at Darnlinvarach; and let
me assure you, that before you have made one or two of those

marches which you seem to contemplate with so much satisfaction
in prospect, you will leave, my good knights, some of your

English beef, and probably an English horse or two, behind you."
Both exclaimed that they cared very little what they found or

what they left, provided the scene changed from dogging up and
down Angus and Aberdeenshire, in pursuit of an enemy who would

neither fight nor run away.
"If such be the case," said Angus M'Aulay, "I must give orders to

my followers, and make provision too for the safe conveyance of
Annot Lyle; for an advance into M'Callum More's country will be a

farther and fouler road than these pinks of Cumbrian knighthood
are aware of." So saying, he left the cabin.

"Annot Lyle!" repeated Dalgetty, "is she following the
campaign?"

"Surely," replied Sir Giles Musgrave, his eye glancing slightly
from Lord Menteith to Allan M'Aulay; "we could neither march nor

fight, advance nor retreat, without the influence of the Princess
of Harps."

"The Princess of Broadswords and Targets, I say," answered his
companion; "for the Lady of Montrose herself could not be more

courteously waited upon; she has four Highland maidens, and as
many bare-legged gillies, to wait upon her orders."

"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 innocentfemale, 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