Ronald thanked the worthy vine-dresser for his advice and good-wishes, but laughed at his fears about the wolves, and told him that while he was armed with his sword, he considered himself secure against any such antagonists; and so continued to ramble about as usual.
One evening, while he was surveying the valley from his old post when the sun was setting, he became overpowered with the heat of the atmosphere and the fatigue of a long walk, and fell fast asleep beside a rude wooden cross, erected to mark the spot where the only abogado who ever appeared in Banos had been poniarded by his first client for unfair dealing. How long Stuart slept there he had no idea, but while dreaming that he had that worthy clerk to the royal signet, Mr. Macquirk, among the mountains of Banos, even close to the abogado's cross, and was about to take summary vengeance upon him for the manner in which he had bamboozled and swindled the old gentleman at Lochisla, he was awakened in a very disagreeable manner by something grasping him roughly by the throat. With the rapidity of light all the stories he had heard of the wolves flashed upon his memory. He was fully awake in an instant, and found himself grappling and struggling savagely with one of those terrible animals, by moonlight, on a solitary hillside many miles away from the village, where the watch-fires of the guard-houses could be seen twinkling afar off at the bottom of the deep valley, like red stars. His brass gorget and the massive lace, on the collar of the coat, together with a stout military stock, had saved his neck from the fangs of the gigantic wolf, which, by straining every energy of strength and courage, or rather desperation, he grasped with a ferocity almost equal to its own, and retaining his hold, threw upon the turf beside him. Its struggles were terrible, and his hands, which encircled its tough and brawny throat, were torn by its claws; yet he never relaxed his iron clutch until the breath and strength of his antagonist began to fail, and then putting his right hand to his side for his Highland dirk, he remembered with rage and anguish that it was left behind at his billet. The moment was indeed a critical one. Two other wolves were approaching the spot cautiously, and Stuart, remembering how often he had heard of their overpowering man by numbers, considered himself for ever lost. It was like some horrible dream, and his heart became filled with an agony of horror and alarm which it had never known before.
"Heaven help me now!" gasped he. "Ah! had I only my dirk, or even a skene-dhu, they would be welcome." He cried aloud for aid, but the cries were feeble, as his tongue was swollen and clove to his palate with the keenness of his terror; and ere the echoes of his last shout died away, he was struggling with the others, and was endeavouring to elude their fangs by rolling over and over, and fighting fiercely with hands and feet. Scarcely had the two wolves come to the aid of their half-burked comrade, ere Stuart imagined that other sounds than the echoes of his cry reverberated through the wilderness. It was—what? the halloo of a true Highland huntsman!
"Hoigh! Diaoul! what's a' this?" cried Dugald Mhor Cameron, plunging headlong among them, with a long dirk gleaming in his right hand and a skene-dhu in his left. One wolf fled, another was pierced thrice to the vitals by Dugald's dirk, and rolled away for several yards, tearing up the earth in rage and agony, until it was finally destroyed by the sharp black knife being drawn across its thick throat by Dugald, who handled it well, being an adroit deer-stalker. The other savage, which had been so gallantly grasped by Ronald, he dispatched by repeated stabs of the dirk, which he drove home to the hilt, sending eighteen inches of cold iron into the body at every stroke. While this passed, poor Stuart, exhausted and overcome, sank backward on the turf, just as Fassifern rode up with his claymore drawn.
"I trust we have not been too late," he cried earnestly, as he leapt from his horse, which had been snorting and shying aside from the scene of the fray. "I am sure, Dugald, we answered to his first cry. He is one of ours; an officer too,—Stuart, by heavens!"
"But for Dugald's prompt and gallant succour, all would have been over with me by this time, colonel," said Ronald, as with difficulty he staggered up from the turf, which was plentifully besprinkled with the blood of his enemies.
"Are you hurt in any way?" was the eager inquiry of both.
"My hands are torn a little; but my sash and coat are all rent to fritters."
"How opportunely Dugald came to save you!"
"Opportune, indeed! I will never be able to repay him for this night's work."