That Prince Charles was at Moyhall, the guest of Lady Mackintosh, was well known to the Earl of Loudon, whose detachment of Royalist troops then occupied Inverness, about twelve miles distant. At breakfast his lordship, discussing his information with his officers, suddenly formed the decision to move on Moyhall in order to surprise the young Chevalier, gain the offered reward, and save the country from further bloodshed. A Highland lassie who waited at table in the ‘Horns’ overheard their plans, and at once, bare-footed and bare-headed, ran on to Moyhall to tell of the danger.
The tidings produced consternation and confusion, for there were no troops to defend the House of Moy, nor meet the coming foe. But Colonel Ann and the council of war she assembled were equal to the occasion. Donald Fraser, the Chief’s blacksmith, afterwards known as ‘Caiptin nan Cuignear,’ the Captain of the Five, at once left his forge, and taking along with him five men whom she named, hurried off with sword and musket to repel the 1500 invading troops.
It was in the dusk of the evening when they reached the narrow pass of Craig an Eoin, two miles from the Hall, and there they waited the approach of the foe. There was a quantity of turf divots and peats set up to dry in small hillocks or stacks, and Donald and his men, in order the better to watch the motions of the troops, placed themselves a few hundred yards asunder among these heaps, concealed by the shadows of the hills rising on either side.
They were hardly in ambush when they became aware of the approach of the soldiers. It was the dusk of the evening. Now was the time for action. Fraser waited until the army was within 100 yards, when, starting up, the command was passed from Donald, and then from man to man, in a loud voice, along a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile—‘The Mackintoshes, the Macgillivrays, the Macbeans to form instantly the centre; the Macdonalds on the right, and the Frasers on the left.’ All this in the hearing of the commander-in-chief of the Royal army, accompanied by the firing of the muskets of the concealed party. Macrimmon, the piper in the advanced guard of the Macleods, fell, and this, coupled with the fear that masses of Highlanders were ready to surround them, and cut them to pieces, caused the troops to flee back precipitately to Inverness, where Lord Loudon, not considering himself safe, continued his route to Sutherlandshire, a distance of seventy miles, where he took up his quarters.
Fraser returned quietly with the dirk of the fallen piper, and was locally promoted to the rank of captain. He fought afterwards bravely at Culloden, and his sword is still kept, with many another piece of rusty armour, at Tomatin House.
Thus ended what has been humorously called the Rout of Moy.
A LEGEND OF LOCH-MAREE.
Of all the many beautiful places in Scotland, none can surpass Loch-Maree (Loch-ma-righ, or the King’s Loch), so called from the incidents related in the following legend:—Some centuries ago there lived near the loch an old woman and her son. Her husband and three elder sons had been slain, their humble home burnt, and their cattle driven off, during one of the fierce clan feuds which were only too common in those days. The poor woman had fled with her youngest son to this lonely secluded spot, where they found shelter, and after a while lived comfortably enough; for Kenneth grew a fine active lad and keen sportsman, and with his bow and arrow and fishing-rod supplied plenty food. They also possessed a small herd of goats, which rambled at will among the mountains surrounding the loch, returning to the widow’s cottage at milking-time. Among them was a very beautiful dun coloured one, which gave more milk than any of the others. This, together with her docile habits, made her a great favourite with the widow. One evening Kenneth, returning home laden with the spoils of the chase, met his mother at the cottage door. The good woman was carrying the milk she had just taken from the goats, wearing a very dissatisfied look on her usually placid countenance. On her son asking what was the matter, she replied tartly, ‘Matter enough; see the small quantity of milk I have got to-night; the dun goat, who used to give more than any of the others, hardly gave a spoonful, and it has been the same the last two nights. I can’t make out what ails the creature.’ Kenneth, tired after a long day’s sport, answered lightly, that perhaps the goat was ill, or that she had not received food enough. His mother made no reply; she, however, gave the goat a double allowance of food that night, and saw that she took it well; but the next evening not a drop of milk did she give—indeed, it was evident she had been newly milked. The old woman was at her wits end; and directly her son came in, she began to complain loudly. ‘We must do something about that dun goat, Kenneth; not a drop of milk did she give again to-night; I am sure the fairies suck her, and if we don’t stop it, I shant be able to make a single cheese to put by for the winter. You really must help me to find out all about it. Kenneth, who began to miss his usual allowance of milk at supper-time, professed his willingness to assist his mother. ‘But,’ said he, ‘What can I do to prevent it? Would it not be better to tie the goat up?’ ‘No, no, that would never do,’ replied his mother, ‘she has never been tethered, and would not stand it. The best thing for you to do will be to follow her to-morrow, and see where she goes.’ To this proposal Kenneth agreed, and early next morning started off after the dun goat, who soon separated herself from the rest of the herd, and made straight for a pass between two high rocks, bleating as she went. ‘Oh, oh!’ said Kenneth to himself, ‘I shouldn’t wonder if she has picked up some motherless fawn, which she suckles, for I have heard of such things before, and that is more likely than the fairies that mother talks about.’ He found it, however, no easy matter to keep the goat in sight, and her colour being so peculiar, it was nearly impossible to see her at a little distance. Kenneth persevered manfully, springing from rock to rock almost as nimbly as the goat herself; but at last a sudden turn hid her for a minute from his sight, and try as he would, he could not again catch sight of her. So he had to own himself beaten; but he determined to wait until the usual time for milking, thinking he would be sure to see where she came from, so he waited patiently, but to no purpose. Not a glimpse did he get of her until he arrived at home, and saw her taking her food among the rest. His mother was anything but pleased at his non-success, more especially as she again did not get a single spoonful of milk from her. Terribly chagrined, Kenneth vowed he would solve the mystery if it took him a week to do so. Rising with the sun next morning, and taking some provisions and his bow and arrows with him, he started off in the same direction the goat had led him the day before. When he came to the place at which he lost sight of her, he concealed himself and waited. Before long he saw her pass, and immediately followed her, but the sagacious animal seemed to know that she was being traced, and redoubled her speed; so, in spite of Kenneth’s utmost exertions, he again lost sight of her.