"Stay, Evan. Unless you want a bullet to make a button-hole in your skin, keep back! A man on horseback has met them;—they have halted."
"'Tis a pity the knaves cannot see them, senor. By the elevation of this place, we command a farther view than the post which these rascals occupy by the river-side."
"They must have heard the sound of the pipe to which they marched."
"I do not think so; they would have fled had they heard it. Sound is said to ascend, senor."
"True—"
"O'd, sir," interrupted Evan, who continued to look through the vines in spite of one or two shots which were fired at him, "I would fain ken if thae chields are Gordon Highlanders or no. I think they belang to the auld forty-twa: they have some red feathers in their bonnets."
"Red feathers? Not one; they are all black and white,—I see them distinctly; but whether they are the Ross-shire Buffs or any of ours, I know not. They are certainly not 42nd men; their long feathers are all white."
"The gloaming's sae mirk and sae far advanced, that I canna see very weel; and my een are sair wi' being in the gloom o' this dismal den sae lang."
"They are British troops; to what corps they belong we need not care, as all are friends alike. They have piled their arms. Surely they mean to bivouac there for the night. I pray to Heaven they may!"
"O sir! let us do something to let them ken o' their friends that are here in tribulation and jeopardy. Fire twa or three shots, just to draw them towards us."