“And is it you at last, Kenn? Man, but I’ve been wearying for a sight of your honest face. I was whiles thinking you must have given us the go-by. Fegs, but it’s a braw day and a sight guid for sair een to see you, lad. You will have heard how we gave Johnnie Cope his kail through his reek.” He broke off to hum:—
| “‘Now Johnnie, troth, ye werena blate, to come wi’ the news o’ your ain, And leave your men in sic a strait, so early in the morning.’ |
“And did you bring my kinswoman back safe with you? I’se wad ye found the journey no’ ower lang;” and he cocked a merry eye at me.
I flushed, and introduced him to Major Macleod, who took occasion to thank him for his services to his sister. They fell into a liking for each other at once. When the major was called aside by one of his gillies a moment later, Macdonald expressed his trust of the other in the old Scotch saying,
“Yon’s a man to ride the water wi’, Kenneth.”
A curious sight illustrative of the Highland way of “lifting” what took their fancy occurred as we were all three walking toward the house of Macleod’s aunt. Three shag-headed gillies in the tattered Cameron tartan dragged an innkeeper from his taproom and set him down squat on the causeway. Without even a by-your-leave they took from his feet a pair of new shoes with silver buckles. He protested that he was a loyal Jacobite.
“Sae muckle ta better. She’ll no’ grumble to shange a progue for the Prince’s guid,” one of the caterans answered cheerfully by way of comfort.
To my surprise the two Highland gentlemen watched this high-handed proceeding with much amusement, enjoying not a little the ridiculous figure cut by the frightened, sputtering host. I asked them if they were not going to interfere.
“What for would we do that at all events?” asked the Macdonald. “Man, Montagu, but you whiles have unco queer notions for so wise a lad. It’s as natural for a Hielander to despoil a Southron as for a goose to gang barefit. What would Lochiel think gin we fashed wi’ his clansmen at their ploy? Na, na! I wad be sweir to be sae upsitten (impertinent). It wadna be tellin’ a Macdonald, I’m thinkin’.”
Aileen was so prettily glad to see her brother and so friendly with Donald Roy, so full of gay chatter and eager reminiscence, that I felt myself quite dashed by the note of reserve which crept into her voice and her manner whenever she found it incumbent to speak to me. Her laugh would be ringing clear as the echo of steel in frost, and when Donald lugged me into the talk she would fall mim as a schoolgirl under the eye of her governess. Faith, you would have thought me her dearest enemy, instead of the man that had risked life for her more than once. Here is a pretty gratitude, I would say to myself in a rage, hugging my anger with the baby thought that she would some day scourge herself for this after I were killed in battle. Here is a fine return for loyal service rendered, and the front of my offending is nothing more than the saluting an old playmate.