MacGregor's claymore flashed from its sheath in a moment; and opposing his shield to them, he was about to break through and escape, when six levelled their carbines, and Colonel Grahame called upon him to "surrender, or he would be shot down without mercy!"
"I know how to die, but not how to yield," replied MacGregor, proudly.
"Then die in your obstinacy!" exclaimed the colonel; "fire!"
But the troopers paused, on which the faithful MacAleister exclaimed to his foster-brother in Gaelic.
"Let them fire at me, and when their guns are empty do thou break through, thou who wert nursed at my mother's breast—and God speed!"
With these words MacAleister threw himself, sword in hand, upon the troopers, who fired their carbines, and, pierced by four bullets, the devoted foster-brother of Rob Roy fell dead on the grass!
The heart of the latter was wrung within him on witnessing this sad catastrophe, and instead of flinging himself with fury on the soldiers and breaking away, as his foster-brother had expected, and had exhorted him to do, he stood for a minute with irresolution, gazing at the corpse, from which the blood was yet welling, with rage and sadness on his face and in his soul.
That minute of irresolution and grief lost all!
From every quarter of the wood, soldiers whom the firing had summoned, came hurrying in, and hemmed round on every side by swords, by levelled bayonets, halberts, and clubbed carbines, Rob Roy was beaten to the ground, and when well-nigh senseless was disarmed and bound with strong ropes, as if he had been a madman or a wild animal.
Then, on being dragged to his feet, he found himself the prisoner of the Duke of Montrose, who surveyed him with a fierce and exulting expression in his proud and haughty face.