Both Farquhar and the corporal being gentlemen, wore the wing of the eagle in their bonnets, and were well educated, and spoke English with tolerable fluency.
"I would that his Majesty had seen us, however," said the corporal; "we have had a long march south from our own country on a bootless errand."
"Can you possibly be so simple as to believe that the King cared a rush on the subject?" asked a gentleman, with an incredulous smile; for he and his companions, like many others who hovered about these new soldiers, were Jacobites and political incendiaries.
"What mean you, sir?" demanded MacPherson, with surprise.
"Why, you simpleton, that story of the King wishing to see you was all a tale of a tub—a snare."
"A snare!"
"Yea—a pretext of the ministry to lure you to this distance from your own country, and then transport you bodily for life."
"To where?"
"Oh, that matters little—perhaps to the American plantations."
"Or, to Botany Bay," suggested another, maliciously; "but take another jorum of brandy, and fear nothing; wherever you go, it can't well be a worse place than your own country."