"No, sir," answered Rob; "there's nothing now to go up the hill for!
Poor old Buadh! God rest his soul!"
"Amen!" responded the chief; "but say rather, 'God give him room to run!'"
"Amen! It is better.—But," added Rob, "we must watch by the body. The foxes and hooded crows are gathering already—I hear them on the hills; and I saw a sea-eagle as white as silver yesterday! We cannot leave Ruadh till he is under God's plaid!"
"Then one of you come and fetch food and fire," said the chief. "I will be with you early."
Father and son communicated in silence, and Rob went with the chief.
"They worship the stag, these peasants, as the old Egyptians the bull!" said Sercombe to himself, walking home full of contempt.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE STAG'S HEAD.
Alister went straight to his brother's room, his heart bursting with indignation. It was some time before Ian could get the story from him in plain consecution; every other moment he would diverge into fierce denunciations.
"Hadn't you better tell your master what has happened?" at length said Ian. "He ought to know why you curse one of your fellows so bitterly."