MacGregor inquired if they had seen anything of the spoilers.
"They passed us towards the hills, with twenty head of cattle, only two hours ago," replied the gipsy, "and, by the smoke that is now rising from yonder corrie, I am assured that there they have made a halt."
"Good!" said MacGregor, with grim satisfaction. "What is your name, friend?"
"Andrew Gemmil."
"You are a Southland man?"
"Yes," replied the wanderer, doffing his bonnet with reverence, for the aspect and bearing of Roll Roy awed and oppressed him.
"From whence?"
"Moffat-dale. I will show you a track in the hills that will lead you to the corrie unseen."
Rob promised the old gipsy two Scottish crowns, and two silver buttons from his coat, if this service were done. Dividing his band into two, he led one party straight up the face of the hill, on their hands and knees; the other, under Greumoch, guided by Gemmil, the gipsy, made a detour, for the purpose of entering the corrie or deep ravine on another point, and thus cutting off the retreat of the marauders.