Full of thought and of the bold deed he had in contemplation, MacGregor travelled alone by the northern base of Benvenue, from whence, across the waters of Loch Katrine, he could see the lights glittering in the windows of the thatched farmhouse, where his family resided, at Portnellan, near where the western end of that lovely sheet of water flows into Glengyle, and with a prayer on his lips for their protection, and a sigh of hope for the future, he drew tighter his girdle, secured his belted plaid upon his breast by his brooch, and crossed the rugged mountain slope with long strides unerringly in the dark, for the night was moonless, and after a journey of ten or twelve miles, he reached his old lurking-place, the cavern, on the banks of Loch Lomond.
From this place he could overlook the lands that were once his own, and where whilom he had been able to count the grey smoke of a hundred cottages rising in the clear air of an autumn evening, and knew that in these humble abodes all loved him with a love that went beyond the grave; but the times were changed, and with a sigh of bitterness he entered the cavern.
He looked carefully to the flints and priming of his pistols, and casting himself on a bed of dry soft heather, prepared for him in a hollow of the rocks by the careful hands of Oina, he placed his drawn sword beside him, and addressed himself to sleep, as he expected a visit from her in the morning when she could leave the fort, where she had been latterly engaged as the servant of an officer's wife.
Hour after hour passed, and MacGregor heard no sound but the night wind as it swept the bleak mountain side, and tossed the wild whins and brakens that fringed the mouth of his dark hiding-place.
Sleep was stealing gradually over him when some strange dark objects appeared at the cavern mouth. Starting, he snatched up his sword and pistols; but paused, for the figures had short horns, floating beards, and red glaring eyes that peered in at him from behind the ledges of rock.
On the first alarm he thought that soldiers had tracked him hither; then the diablerie of Paul's recent proceedings, and his strange narrative of the night he had passed in the den of the Urisks, flashed upon Rob's memory, and made his flesh creep; for now, head after head, with horns and beard and red glancing eyes, came along the lower edge of the cavern floor, appearing darkly and indistinctly against the dim light without.
MacGregor levelled a pistol and fired; then there was a rush of many feet down the slope, and on springing to the cavern mouth, he found that he had been scared by a herd of poor mountain goats, which he saw now leaping from rock to rock in terror and dismay.
Then Rob laughed aloud at the excitement or overstrained fancy which had caused such unusual emotions of alarm; and he thought of the good King Robert I., who had been similarly startled in the same place. For we are told, that after his defeat by the rebellious Western Highlanders at Dalree in Strathfillan, he fled down the glen, crossed the Falloch, and alone and unattended reached Loch Lomond side, and at Inversnaid took shelter in this same cavern. There he slept in his armour on the bare rocks, with his sword drawn by his side—the sword that was never to be sheathed till Scotland were freed alike from Western rebels and English invaders.
In the mirk midnight, the war-worn king awoke, and was at first astonished, and then amused, to find the cave full of wild mountain goats, whose lair it was; and tradition adds, that Bruce found himself so comfortable among them, that when peace was proclaimed and the Parliament met, he passed "a law whereby all goats should be grass mail (or rent) free."
In that cave King Robert passed the night, and in the morning there came to him Sir Maurice of Buchanan, who conducted him to Malcolm Earl of Lennox.