“Who comes there?”
“A friend,” replied Inverawe, in the same language in which he was addressed.
“I am not sure of that,” said the same voice hoarsely and bitterly. “Is he alone?”
“He is alone,” said a voice a little way behind Inverawe; “We are quite safe.”
“Come on then, sir,” said the voice in front, “you have nothing to fear.”
“Fear!” cried Inverawe, in a tone which implied that any such feeling had ever been a stranger to him; “I fear nothing.”
“I know you to be a brave man, Inverawe!” said the man who now appeared in front of him. “Come on then without apprehension. You need not put your hand into the guard of your claymore, for no one here will harm you. But what strange chance has brought you here?”
“The loss of my way,” replied Inverawe. “But how do you come to know me so well?”
“It is no matter how I know you,” replied the other. “It is sufficient that I do know you, and know you to be a brave man, to whom, as such, I am prepared to do what kindness I can. What are your wants then, and what can I do for you?”
“My wants are, simply to find my lost way, and then to procure some food, of which I stand much in need,” replied Inverawe.