"Do you think we are such fools as to travel without powder and ball in time of war?" said I, and hoped it had passed unnoticed; but the fellow threw it down outside the house door, saying lead would not suffer for a little fresh air, at which old Colin Dearg laughed, and said:
"No doubt such gentlemen will have their ruffles there. I will carry it in myself."
"Don't think of it," said I, much put out, and, raising it, I placed it in a corner of the room where I could easily keep my eye on it, and wished from the bottom of my heart we could set off.
Old Colin Dearg was most offensive, although pretending to an extreme courtesy. He disclaimed having seen Creach, or Graeme, since the day before, but we were certain this was a blind, as we could see he knew who the supposed Captain Lynch was, and kept pushing him with questions about the Imperial service, until I feared for the latter's temper. But nothing could move Father O'Rourke when he had not a mind to it, and he rattled on as though he noticed nothing.
The old man pretended to rate the women who were preparing our supper, but I knew well it was all a pretext, though why he was anxious to keep us I could not make out. At length, when he could delay no longer, we sate down in a great room, but, to my dislike, in total darkness, save for the little blaze on the hearth and what light could reach us through the open door. This was bad enough; but on sitting down with the officers, and a Mr. Gordon, who was to be of our company, the room was speedily filled with the riff-raff of men idling about, who took their places behind us.
Colin Dearg would not sit down with us, but pretended to busy himself bustling about and shouting out orders to the women and encouragements to us to eat heartily of his fare, which he called by all the wretched names in the world, though it was good enough. I was most uneasy, but Father O'Rourke held the company with his talk, while I quietly assured myself that my portmanteau was safe, though I chafed sadly at the precious time we were wasting. At length I put ceremony aside and insisted we must be off; whereupon we drank a single glass from our store to Prince Charles's health and better fortunes, and I rose from the table and went to the corner where I had left my portmanteau, and my heart almost leaped into my mouth when I saw it was gone; but at the same time, old Colin said, behind me, "Never fear, McDonell! You'll lose nothing here; I have fastened your things on the pony myself."
So out we went into the starlight, and there found the pony loaded with our belongings, and with short farewells set off with Mr. Gordon and our guides on our night march.
We could not speak of our feelings before Mr. Gordon, but I knew Father O'Rourke had enjoyed our entertainment as little as myself; so all night long we tramped, gathering such news as we might from our companions of the battle, which was vague but disheartening enough. At daybreak we arrived at a very considerable house—indeed, a gentleman's seat—which Mr. Gordon informed us was that of McKenzie of Dundonald, to whom we were recommended by old Colin Dearg, who was his uncle. Dundonald was at Inverness, whither he had gone that he might not be suspected of favoring the Prince's cause, but his lady was at home.
We led our pony into the court-yard, and there unloaded him, where Mr. Gordon declared he could accompany us no farther, his shoes being worn out.
"Very well," said I, "after we have a nap I will provide you with a second pair I have in my portmanteau."