“Let us see how far he will follow,” said the king as he strode on. The gillie accompanied them for half an hour or more without making any protest, but at last he said to MacDonald that he thought it was time to return.
“We are going through to the coast we came from,” replied MacDonald, “and do not intend to return.”
At this the gillie drew from his belt a short black tube that looked like a practising chanter, which indeed it was, and on this he blew a few shrill notes. Up to that moment the way had been clear, but now there appeared over the hill in front of them a dozen armed men, who approached carelessly as if they had merely happened to be in the neighbourhood, or were journeying together toward the castle.
“I think it is time to go back,” suggested the gillie in a dull, uninterested voice.
“I think it is myself,” replied MacDonald.
And so the futile excursion came to an end.
Once more in the castle they were confronted again by the question, What next?
“I am certain,” said the king, “that if MacLeod is attempting to hold us, there is little use in making appeal to him, and we have small chance of getting word to the fleet. I propose then to coerce him. He was alone in his study yesterday, and he may be alone there now. A sword’s point at a man’s throat is an irresistible argument.”
“But will he keep his word if he gives it under distress?” objected MacDonald.