“Major Guthrie, I think?” he suggested, and saluted him. “I am Major Keith Windham of the Royals, on General Hawley’s staff, and now on my way with despatches from His Royal Highness to Perth.”
“I care little if ye hae despatches frae God Himsel’!” retorted Major Guthrie with increasing fury. “And this isna Perth . . . Haud awa frae yon wa’—unless ye’ve a fancy tae be shot tae!”
But Keith did not move. “This is not a common Highlander, sir,” he said, as calmly as he could. “He is an officer, despite his dress.” For officers, as Major Guthrie must know, were not shot in cold blood—now.
“What’s that tae me?” enquired Guthrie. He turned. “Here, ye sumphs, pit him up afore the wa’ again!”
Two of the men made an undecided move forwards, but the sight of this other officer of equal rank standing so resolutely in front of the prostrate Highlander daunted them.
“But listen, Major Guthrie,” pleaded Keith, keeping a tight hold upon his own rapidly rising temper and disgust, “this gentleman is really of more than ordinary importance, for he was at one time aide-de-camp to the Pretender’s son, and he is Lochiel’s near kinsman—some kind of cousin, I think. You surely would not——”
“Lochiel’s near kinsman, did ye say?” interrupted Guthrie, bending down a little. “Hoo is he called?”
“Cameron of Ardroy, a captain in Lochiel’s regiment. I am sure,” went on Keith, eager to follow up the impression which Lochiel’s name appeared to have made, “I am sure you will recognise, Major, that the Duke would not wish him to be shot out of hand like this!”
“Indeed I’m obliged tae ye, Major Somebody or ither, for sae kindly instructing His Royal Highness’s wishes tae me,” retorted the Lowlander, but he bent still farther from the saddle, and gazed down for a moment at what was lying so still by the wall—at the dirty, bloodstained, half-clothed figure which Keith had last seen so gallant in powder and satin, cool, smiling and triumphant. The plea he had offered—the only plea that he could think of—was it going to save Ewen Cameron from lying there stiller yet? He tried to read Guthrie’s intentions on his face, but all that he could see there was its innate meanness and cruelty.
The saddle creaked as the rider came upright again. He looked down at Keith himself now with eyes that seemed to hold a flickering light.