"It was nae dream, sirs," said Dugald, forgetting his Gaelic, and resuming the Lowland dialect, "it was indeed nae dream; and as proof positive, he found his target cloven like a nut-shell by the stroke of the spirit's blade—what nae mortal sword could hae dune; for it was covered wi' four barkened bull-hides, and with three hundred brass studs,—and yet it was cloven in twa, and his arm felt the wecht o' the unco' cloure for mony a day after."
"A very foolish story, Dugald," said the colonel. "But you have forgotten to tell us that your father had emptied a capacious hunting-flask of fiery mountain whisky before he entered the cavern; and probably a fall on the rocks might account for the cloven targe."
"Sir, ye never tried to account for it in that way before," replied the old man indignantly; "bethink ye, when at hame, how ye wadna put your nose outside the door-stane after dark, for fear o' encountering lham-dearg. Ye were but a callant then, to be sure; but even now, wi' a' your bravery,—and I ken that, like a' o' your name, you've a lion's heart in the field, on the water ye tremble like an aspen leaf, and a' for fear o' the kelpie. But as for my faither's adventure, ye ken the hail country-side rang, and yet rings, wi' the story."
"Your father, Dugald, was always seeing things such as no other man ever saw, I believe."
"I ken he was farer seen than maist folk; but mair than he hae viewed the fightin' spectre o' Glenmore, but nae man ever cam aff sae easy frae a tulzie wi' him. Four o' Rothiemurchus' gillies ance foucht a battle wi' him near Loch-morlach, and never ane o' them survived the scuds his claymore gied them."
"Well; and the dirk—"
"My faither wore till his dying day,—and I shall wear till mine, in memory of that adventure. It's no different frae other men's,—a sharp blade wi' a buckhorn hilt, ye see; but he micht sink it to the guard in an aiken tree, and it ne'er would bend or break. But, as I said before, my faither was farer seen than ither folk, and he ance had a mair solemn and eerie adventure wi' a wraith,—ay, sirs, his ain wraith, than the ane I hae now related.
"He joined me when I was wi' the Prince and Lochiel, biding in concealment amang the wild shores of Loch-Archaig, at Kilmallie. The Prince of Wales lived in our puir hut on the top of Tor-a-muilt, frae whar we had a look-out for mony a mile, and richt gude need there was! The hail country was swarming wi' red-coats and blood-thirsty mercenaries, under the Prince of Hesse. Ochone! ochone-aree! Had you seen the gallant Prince Charles as I saw him then! O sirs! the vera thocht o't maddens me. He had neither shirt, shoe, nor hose on; he had been wandering for six weeks in the Corrie-nan-gaul of Knovdart, bare-footed, dressed in an auld tartan coat and filleadh-beg, wi' a lang beard hanging frae his chin. He carried a musquet, dirk, pistol, and horn; and but for his famished and wae-begane face, lookit mair like some wild reiver o' the isles, than the son o' braid Scotland's king.
"We were a' in the same plight, and ever since the dool-day o' Culloden had lived in caves and forests, like the beasts o' the field. My father found us out in our hiding-place—a feat which baffled the followers of Cumberland, to whom no true Scotsman would betray us,—even although thirty thousand pounds were offered for the prince, dead or alive! My father fell on his knees, and sair he wept to see the son o' his king a wandering outcast and outlaw, amang his ain Highland hills. He tauld us o' his encounter wi' the lham-dearg, but the prince laughed heartily, just as he used to do at Holyrood, and wadna believe a word o't. Aweel, sirs, we wandered lang about Archaig and Glenpean, stealing for the prince's support the few sheep which escaped Cumberland's order to destroy every living thing in the country. Mony, mony were the miseries and calamities he suffered until the month of September, when he embarked at Moidart on board o' the Ballona, a Nantz ship o' thirty-twa guns, broucht for him by the loyal Colonel Warren. Lochiel, Glengarry, Borodale, and a hundred common men, including my faither and mysel, followed them into banishment.
"In France the prince, wha indeed never, while ae plack rubbit on anither, forgot auld friends, got Lochiel command of one of the regiments composed of Scots and Irish refugees, wha served the French king. As in duty bound, we followed Lochiel, and became soldiers of his battalion, which soon became so famous,—the Royal Scots regiment. We were wi' the army under the Mareschal Saxe, whan the French defeated oor auld enemy the bluidy Duke of Cumberland at Laffeldt, in June 1747, and compelled the British troops to retire in disorder. Wi' a' the memory o' the past, o' our prince's wrangs, and the awfu' butcherie o' Culloden glowing in their minds, the Royal Scots fought wi' richt gude will against the scarlet ranks o' the British, and unco' slaughter we made amang them wi' bayonet and claymore, when they were compelled to flee, and retire in disorder on the toon or village o' Val.