Something seemed to have turned his body to stone. Rob, who was nearest to him, stepped quickly to the spy-hole commanding the valley, and stared down the rocky slope.
For a moment he detected nothing; then, with a gasp of horror, he observed tiny blots of red running like ants among the rocks, coming ever nearer—red-coats following upon the trail.
A hand touched him upon the shoulder.
"Not a word of this to the Prince," whispered Muckle John, "but do as I bid." And he led him a little away.
"Now, Rob," he said, "let what happened in the past have the go-by, and dinna think ower hardly of Muckle John. I liked ye fine, Rob, and when you wrote that letter from the fort I could have cried at the daft spirit of it. Well, Rob, there's the English, and here are we; and some one must hold this pass if the Prince is to win through."
"But cannot we run for it?"
"He is too tired for that, Rob, and in the open country we should be shot down like hares. Now, away with ye all, and take Grant here to guide you. Make for the south, and dinna stop putting leg to earth for an hour. After that I can promise no more." Turning aside he beckoned to his men, and placed them in position along the side of the slope.
Rob rejoined the Prince and Dr. Cameron, and described the situation. For long Charles was set upon aiding in the defence; but the knowledge that such a course would probably seal the fate of his friends, persuaded him on flight. There was not a moment to spare.
