"Quick, lads, quick!" exclaimed the remorseless Duncan; "drive on the prey; the MacGregors will soon scent the blood and be on our track."
At some distance from the bleeding and dying boy, Oina sank upon the ground, screaming wildly, and covering her face with her hands and hair.
"What shall we do with the girl?" said one; "she will soon reach and rouse all the clachan."
"Take her with us," suggested another.
"Oich—oich! that would be kidnapping."
"But she is only a MacGregor's daughter," said a third.
"And you shall soon be tracked by one MacGregor, who will revenge us," exclaimed the girl, whom excess of terror now endued with courage.
"Oich! and who may he be?" asked Duncan nan Creagh, mockingly.
"Rob Roy of Inversnaid."
"The Red MacGregor—is that all?"