MARY STEWART. Did you notice were there many people going by to-day?
MORAG. No. After daybreak the redcoats came by from Struan; and there was no more till nine, when an old man like the Catechist from Killichonan passed. At four o'clock, just when the dark was falling, a horseman with a lad holding to the stirrup, and running fast, went by towards Rannoch.
MARY STEWART. But no more redcoats?
MORAG (shaking her head). The road has been as quiet as the hills, and they as quiet as the grave. Do you think will he come?
MARY STEWART. Is it you think I have the gift, girl, that you ask me that? All I know is that it is five days since he was here for meat and drink for himself and for the others—five days and five nights, mind you; and little enough he took away; and those in hiding no' used to such sore lying, I'll be thinking. He must try to get through to-night. But that quietness, with no one to be seen from daylight till dark, I do not like it, Morag. They must know something. They must be watching.
(A sound is heard by both women. They stand listening.)
MARY STEWART. Haste you with the light, Morag.
MORAG. But it came from the back of the house—from the hillside.
MARY STEWART. Do as I tell you. The other side may be watched.
(A candle is lit and placed in the window. Girl goes hurrying to the door.)