THE HOLDING OF THE PASS.
Accompanied by the man Grant, and bidding a hasty and melancholy farewell to Muckle John, they hurried down the hill-side and disappeared.
Rob let them go in silence. The Prince was safe for the present, and with him Cameron and the keys to the treasure. For him, as for Muckle John, there was nothing but danger, even if they won through in the defence of the pass.
Presently the first shot rang re-echoing down the desolate glen, and he crept forward to where Muckle John sat with a musket across his knees.
"Rob!" he cried, in a voice half anger, half surprise.
"I could not go," he said simply.
For a moment Muckle John looked at him queerly.
"Man, Rob," he said at last, "you're a rare one. But what of Mistress Macpherson? Promise me that you will take to your heels when I tell ye, and go straight for Inverness. She will shield you till better times. Promise, Rob."
"I promise," replied he.
Next moment the firing started in earnest.