"I'll tell you, ye Highland blackguard, the man's a gentleman, and you shall not disturb him."
"But," replied the stranger, "I'm no going to be a fule, if ye are ane, serjeant. If ony o' the band get an inkling o' what I'm about, ye'll never put saut on their tails."
"Nonsense," quoth Private Kincaid; "the man's asleep, and never dreaming of caterans, or the Glen of Benvorlich. I wish the Highland devils may be as sound as he is when we get there."
"Just let him be quiet, Macpherson," said the serjeant. "I wish I was as sure of fifty guineas as you are. Come, let's be jolly—fill your tumbler and don't shirk."
Roderick, who, on other occasions, would have scorned to have become an eavesdropper, was impelled by strong and urgent reasons to be a listener; and he easily gathered, from the broken and disjointed conversation of the parties, that Macpherson had been connected with the band of caterans of whom the titular Inshannock was the leader; that, from a quarrel, he had resolved to betray his companions; and induced by a government reward and promise of pardon, had made the bothy a trysting-place, from whence he was to be conducted to a village some few miles distant, where a detachment of the king's troops was stationed, from whence he was to guide them to the hiding-place of those who were sought.
By this time the small hours were gradually becoming larger, and daylight was beginning to creep through the crevices in the diminutive window. The revellers were thoroughly inebriated; and Macpherson, no longer awed by his commander-in-chief, again vowed his determination of rousing the object of his curiosity. The serjeant hiccupped a negative, to which no attention was paid; and Macpherson advanced, as steadily as the effect of his libations would permit, to the side of the bed were Roderick lay, apparently fast asleep. The man of curiosity tottered onward towards the bed; but fate had willed that he should be baffled; for Oscar, who had been watching his footsteps with jealous care, sprang upon him, as he put forth his hand to remove the plaid from the head of the supposed sleeper. The suddenness of the attack brought the intruder to the ground; and the fall entirely removed any glimmerings of reason which his previous inebriety had left him. There he lay all his length in a state of hopeless intoxication.
"Served him right," mutually exclaimed the serjeant and the private; "but what can you expect from a Mac?"
"The Macphersons, Macgregors, and all, are not much better than savages," added the serjeant; who, being a Lowlander, felt that contempt for the Highlanders so common amongst the more southern inhabitants of Scotland.
It is a curious fact—perhaps affording better evidence of the distinctiveness of the two races inhabiting North Britain than any other—that the dislike of the Lowlanders, especially among the lower orders, towards their brethren of the mountains, was extreme, both at the period when the events here related occurred, and long previously: even in these modern times, some portion of the leaven remains. This feeling Serjeant Patullo, a native of Dalkeith, shared with his compatriots.
Roderick rose from the bed not much refreshed, but infinitely delighted by the unexpected manner in which the attempt of Macpherson had been frustrated. Shaking hands with the two military personages, who were just able to keep their feet, and giving his repulsive hostess a gratuity for her night's lodgings, he proceeded on his journey, accompanied by his faithful companion.