"Egad, here comes my Lord Dunbarton and the young Laird of Holsterlee! Gentlemen, the old game must be afoot—but what can be in the wind now?"
"A rising among those crop-eared curs in the west, I warrant," replied the Laird of Drumquhasel. "Men say that false villain Clelland, the covenanting colonel, and Dyckvelt the Hollander, have been in the land of the whigamores, blowing the trumpet of sedition, and preparing the way for southern invasion and northern rebellion."
The earl hurriedly dismounted, and abstractedly threw the reins of his horse to Holsterlee his gentleman-in-waiting, who exclaimed,
"'Sdeath, Dunbarton, you forget that a cavalier of the Guard is not like one of Douglas' Red Troopers or Dunmore's Grey Dragoons."
The earl asked pardon, and laughed as he ascended the flight of steps that led to the inn-door; while Jack vociferously summoned the peddies or horse-boys, and tossing to them the reins of the chargers, jerked his long bilbo under his arm, and sprung up the steps, three at a time, after the general.
"Place for the most noble lord the Earl of Dunbarton—place for the general commanding!" exclaimed a servant ushering in the noble visitor, and all present arose at his entrance. His dark and handsome features were slightly flushed, and not without a marked expression of anxiety, while the saucy face of Jack Holster was extremely animated, and he displayed rather more than usual of his jovial and reckless swagger.
"Gentlemen," said the earl; "the old banner that waved so often and ever victoriously in the vanguard of Condé and Turenne is again to be unfurled before a foe."
"South or west?" asked a dozen of eager voices.
"In the land of our ancient enemies."
"By my soul I rejoice at that," said Douglas. "I have no fancy for bending our fire on ranks that speak our mother tongue, and wear the broad blue bonnet."