"Hear ye people, and listen all ye nations! MacNeil of Barra having finished his dinner, all the kings and princes of the earth have liberty to dine."
The chief who now confronted Rob Roy was considered one of the best swordsmen in Scotland; and certainly he was the first in his native Hebrides. He was possessed of a high spirit, with a romantic love of adventure. He had heard of Rob Roy's skill in the use of his weapons and his renown in arms; so he determined with his own hands to pub his skill and valour to the test.
"And so," said he, while surveying him from head to foot, "you are Rob Roy MacGregor, whom I have so long wished to meet."
"For what purpose?" asked the other, haughtily; "I never saw you before, MacNeil, and by your bearing I care little if I never see you again."
"I have heard much of your fame, MacGregor, and I have come hither—I, Roderick MacNeil of Barra—to prove myself a better swordsman than you!"
At these words he leaped from his horse, tossed the bridle to one of his gillies, and drew his sword and dirk.
"Roderick MacNeil," said Rob, calmly, "I have no doubt of your being what you assert—the Chief of Barra, and of a noble and ancient lineage; a better swordsman, and it may be a better man, than I; but I have no wish to prove it. My business is with Invernentie here, and I never fight a man without a reason. With you I have no quarrel; so keep your sword for the service of Scotland and her king."
"I do so keep my sword; but you must fight me, nevertheless," said the other, imperiously.
"Fie, sir!" replied Rob, whose temper was rising; "this is a bad trade you have taken to."
"Trade?"