My legend has to do with that very Castle of Eilean Donan with
which yours has already made us so well acquainted. The time of
the action was about the early part of the seventeenth century, and
the great actor in it was a very celebrated MacDonell of Glengarry,
whose name I have forgotten, but who is said to have been remarkable
for his gigantic figure and Herculean strength. The Lord Kintail of
that period was a great favourite with the Court, so that he thereby
rose to great power and influence, which he very naturally employed,
according to the laudable custom of those days, in humbling his
enemies. Amongst these, none bore him a larger share of animosity
than his hereditary foes, the MacDonells of Glengarry. It was not
in their nature tamely to submit to the dominion which Kintail was
permitted to exercise, with comparative impunity, over some of the
other clans. On the contrary, they were frequently disposed not only
to resist themselves, but they also very often found means to stir
up others to resistance, and in this way they sometimes furnished
Kintail with specious grounds for accusing them, when all apology
for doing so might have been otherwise wanting.
It happened that the chief of Glengarry was on one occasion engaged
for some days in a hunting expedition in that range of his own country
which surrounds the sea lake of Loch Hourn, already so often mentioned
in the last legend. The sun was setting on a mild and beautiful
evening, and the breeze was blowing softly from the sea, when, as
Glengarry was returning from the chase, attended by a small party of
his followers, he espied a couple of galleys standing in towards the
very part of the shore where stood the little group of black bothies,
that at such times formed his temporary place of encampment. Doubtful
whether the approaching vessels might contain friends or foes, he
deemed it prudent to put himself and his people into ambush behind
some broken ground, where they might lie concealed until they could
patiently observe the progress and the motions of those who came,
and so judge as to the result.
"Knowest thou the rig of those craft, Alaister More?" demanded
Glengarry of his henchman, as they peered together over the black
edge of a moss bank, and scanned the approaching sails with earnest
eyes. "Whence may they come, thinkest thou?"
"I would not say but they may be Kintail's men," replied Alaister.
"Kintail's men!" exclaimed Glengarry, "what would bring Kintail's
men here at this time?"
"I'm not saying that I am just exactly right," replied Alaister,
"but I'm thinking it looks like them."
"Curses on them!" said Glengarry bitterly, "they are bold to venture
hither while I am here."
"They are so, I'm thinking," said Alaister; "but it may be that they
have no guess that Glengarry is here. But, troth, that Kintail holds
his head so high now-a-days, that I'm judging his men think themselves
free to thrust in their noses just where they like. He's king of the
north-west, as a man might say."
"Accursed be his dastard dominion!" said Glengarry, with bitterness of
expression; "and shame upon the slavish fools that yield their necks as
footstools to his pride. Is't not galling to see it? Is't not galling
to see men of wisdom and bravery, such a man as my staunch friend and
ally, MacLeod, for instance, yielding so ready an obedience to one whom
all should unite to oppose, overthrow, and crush as a common enemy."
"That's very true that you're saying, Glengarry!" observed Alaister;
"but I'm thinking that they are not all just blessed with your
spirit. If they had been so, I'm judging that the MacCraws could not
have been left as they were without help but what they got from you."
"By all that is good, it was our help alone that saved them," cried
Glengarry in an animated tone. "Half of them would have been hanged
on the gallows-tree but for our interference. The MacKenzies had no
reason to pride themselves on the event of that day, nor had we any
cause to boast of the zeal of those whom we have been wont to reckon
among our allies."
"Troth, you're not wrong there, Glengarry," said Alaister. "So I'm
judging that we must even go on to trust to our own MacDonell swords
in all time coming; and we have reason to be thankful that their
blades are not just made of cabbage stalks."
"Thank God, indeed, that they are made of better metal!" said
Glengarry, smiling proudly. "And small as this our party is, would,
with all my heart, that these were Kintail's men, with Kintail himself
at the head of them!"
"I should not be that sorry to see Kintail," said Alaister.
"We should give him a hotter welcome than this cold coast might lead
him to look for," said Glengarry.
"We'll not be slow in giving him that same, I'm thinking," said
Alaister.
"Stay! dost thou not make out a banner yonder?" demanded Glengarry.
"I'm thinking I do see something like a banner," replied Alaister.
"With this failing light we cannot hope even to guess at the bearing
with which it may be charged," said Glengarry, straining his eyes,
"but if that be a banner, as I believe it to be, then is there
certainly a chief there. Look to your arms, MacDonells, and let us
be prepared for what may happen!"
By degrees the galleys drew nearer and nearer; but as the night
was falling fast, their forms grew less and less distinct as their
bulk swelled in the eyes of the MacDonells, till at last they came
looming towards the shore like two dark opaque undefinable masses,
which were suddenly reduced, by the displacement of their sails,
to about one-fourth part of the size they had grown to. For a time
they were rocked to and fro until their keels became fixed in the
sand by the receding tide. The dusky figures they contained were
then seen pouring out from them, and passing like shadowy spectres
across a gleam of light that was reflected on the wet sand from the
upper part of the sky; and they showed so formidably in numbers, as
to render some short council of war necessary before assaulting them
with an inferior force, not from any fear of defeat on the part of
him who took this precaution, but dictated by his prudence to prevent
all risk of the escape of those whom they were about to attack.
Whilst Glengarry was thus concerting his measures, the strangers
were seen moving a body towards the cluster huts, which stood at
something less than an hundred yards from the water side, and speedily
disappeared within their walls, and lights soon afterwards began to
start up within them, as if they were preparing to make themselves
comfortable for the night. Glengarry observed this, and in order that
he might lull all apprehension of attack, he resolved to give them
full time to employ themselves in cookery, or in whatever occupation
they might find to be necessary.
The broken ground which concealed the MacDonells discharged a small
rill, that ran between the banks of mossy soil, in a diagonal line,
and opened on the sand at a point almost opposite to the spot where the
two galleys were lying. No sooner was the chief of Glengarry satisfied
that the time was come when the assault could be most opportunely made,
than he led his handful of men silently down between the hollow banks
of the brook, so as to get unperceived between the enemy and their
vessels. So far everything went well with them, but as they debouched
from the mouth of the water-course, the partial light that gleamed
from the upper part of the sky glanced unexpectedly on the blades of
their naked claymores, and instantly a loud bugle blast blew shrilly
from on board the nearer of the two galleys.
"Dunvegan! Dunvegan!" cried a loud voice from the bothies, after the
bugle had ceased.
In an instant their little black heaps gave forth their living
contents, some armed, and others with blazing torches of moss-fir,
plucked suddenly from the great fires they had kindled.
"'Tis MacLeod!" said Glengarry in a peevish tone, that sufficiently
betrayed the disappointment he felt that his well-concerted scheme of
attack was thus rendered useless. "'Tis but MacLeod, then, after all!"
"Hoo!" said Alaister, "sure enough it's MacLeod, and no one else. So
we'll be supping, I'm thinking, and drinking together like friends,
instead of fighting like wild cats."
"Would it had been otherwise!" said Glengarry, "much as I love MacLeod,
I would at this moment rather a thousand times have encountered the
Lord of Kintail. By the rood, but I was more i' the humour for dealing
in blows than pledging in beakers! But since it could not be Kintail,
I rejoice that it is MacLeod, for as I could desire no better foe
than the one, I can have no worthier friend than the other."
"Both good of their kind surely, I'm thinking," said Alaister.
Nothing could exceed the joy and cordiality of the friends at thus
meeting so unexpectedly. The fattest buck of the chase was dragged
towards a fire, kindled for culinary purposes in one of the huts,
steaks cut from its haunch were added to the fare which MacLeod's
people were preparing, and after a hasty and unceremonious meal,
the two chiefs retired with some of those in whom they reposed most
confidence, into a separate bothy, where they might have leisure for
full converse over a cup of wine.
"To what happy accident am I to attribute our meeting thus in
Knoidart?" demanded Glengarry.
"If I had not chanced thus to meet you here," said MacLeod, "I should
have gone on to Invergarry Castle, as I originally intended. But it
is well that I am saved so long a journey."
"Nay, by all that is friendly, that is not well said of you, MacLeod,"
said Glengarry. "But I shall not be baulked of your visit. We shall
break up hence, and set forward thither before to-morrow's dawn. If
there be deer on my hills, fish in my streams, steers in my pastures,
or wine in my castle-vaults, thou shalt be feasted like a prince as
thou art."
"That may not be," said MacLeod, "for this is no time for you to devote
to friendship and feasting. Thou knowest not that the object of this
voyage of mine was no other than to warn thee of certain wicked plots
that are about to be brought to bear against thee."
"What! some evil machinations of the accursed Kintail, I warrant me,"
said Glengarry.
"Thou hast guessed, and guessed rightly too," replied MacLeod.
"Cowardly villain that he is!" cried Glengarry, "what has he done?"
"Thou knowest that he is in high favour at Court," said MacLeod. "They
even talk now of his being made an earl. But be that as it may, he
hath somehow or other acquired the means of using the King's ear. And
foully doth he misuse it, by pouring poison into it to further his
own ambitious and avaricious views, to the injury of the innocent."
"'Tis like the cold-hearted knave," said Glengarry. "But what, I pray
thee, hath he said of me?"
"I know not what he may have said of thee," answered MacLeod, "but I
know that he must have sorely misreported thee, seeing that through
certain channels he hath persuaded his Majesty to arm him with letters
of fire and sword and outlawry against thee."
"What said'st thou?" cried Glengarry, choking with his rising anger;
"did I hear thee aright? Letters of outlawry, and of fire and sword,
put into the hands of MacKenzie of Kintail, to be executed against
me! Oh, impossible!"
"What I tell thee is too true," said MacLeod.
"The dastard dare not use them!" cried Glengarry, grinding his teeth
from the violence of his rage.
"Backed by the King, as he now is, he may dare do anything," said
MacLeod.
"I defy him though he be backed by the King," cried Glengarry in
a fury; "aye, and though both were backed by the black monarch of
hell? God forgive me for coupling the name of a sovereign whom I
would fain love and honour, if he would but let me, with those of
MacKenzie of Kintail, and that devil whom he delights to serve."
"Moderate your passion, Glengarry," said MacLeod, "and listen to
me quietly, until I put thee in possession of all that is brewing
against thee."
"I am calm," said Glengarry.
"It is my duty as a friend of thine to tell thee, then," said MacLeod,
"that a meeting is summoned for three days hence at the Castle of
Eilean Donan of all those whom Kintail chooses to call the King's
friends in these north-western parts, who are called together for
the ostensible purpose of giving him counsel how best to put in force
those letters against thee, which he affects to be deeply grieved to
have been charged with."
"Hypocritical villain!" cried Glengarry.
"I am one of those friends of the King who are thus summoned," said
MacLeod, "and my present object was to prove to thee, that although
I may be so ranked, I am not the less a friend of thine. I wished to
make thee fully aware of the whole state of matters before I go to
Eilean Donan to swell, as in regard to my own safety I must needs do,
that majority which he looks for to strengthen his hands against thee."
"Thou hast proved thyself a friend indeed," said Glengarry, after
ruminating a few seconds. "Thou hast proved thyself to be that old
and steady friend of mine which I always have believed, and ever will
believe thee to be. And now it is my turn to ask thee, whether thou
hast ever found me in one instance to fail thee?"
"Thou hast never failed me, Glengarry," said MacLeod, "and I trust
our clans shall be ever linked together like one bundle of rods."
"Aye!" said Glengarry, with a bitter laugh, "a bundle of rods which I
trust may one day be well employed in scourging this pitiful tyrant
of the north-west. I love thee too much to demand thine open aid
at present. But haply thou mayest well enough find some excuse for
not going to this meeting thou speakest of. An excuse, mark me,
to be sent after the day is past. Thou canst be grievously ill, or
anything may serve as an apology, if an apology should be required;
for I have friends at Court, too, and I may yet find the means so to
bring things into proper joint, as to render apologies more necessary
from Kintail than from us. All that I ask of thee then is, that you
may not appear at this nefarious assemblage at Eilean Donan."
"MacDonell," replied MacLeod, "I know the risk I run, but I am ready to
incur any risk for so old a friend as thou art, especially in a case
where the securing aid in arms rather than in council is so evidently
the object of Kintail in calling us together. Say no more then; we
shall weigh hence for Dunvegan by to-morrow's dawn, and be assured
nothing shall drag me thence to be marshalled against thee in any way."
"Thank thee--thank thee!" said Glengarry, cordially shaking MacLeod
by the hand. "This is no more than I expected of thy generosity and
good faith. Thy kind and friendly information shall not be thrown away
upon me. I shall start for Invergarry Castle by to-morrow morning's
sunrise. But thou shalt hear from me without fail. And if thy little
finger be but brought into jeopardy, thou shalt have my neck to answer
for it."
This important conversation between the two chiefs being now ended,
they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of that good fellowship and
revelry which arose between their two clans. Small was that portion
of the time subjected to the rule of night which was by them devoted
to slumber, and soon were they both astir each to pursue his separate
way; and as the rising sun was glancing on the arms of Glengarry and
his people as they wound inland over the muirland hills, they looked
back towards Loch Hourn, and beheld the galleys of MacLeod winging
their way for Skye, under a favouring land breeze, that seemed to
have been begotten by the genial beams of morning, which then poured
a flood of brilliant light after them as they flew over the trembling
surface of the waters.
The tide was fully up around the little island which gives name to the
Castle of Eilean Donan, and the ferry-boat was moored on the landward
side of the strait, when the shades of night began to descend upon it,
and upon the whole of the surrounding scenery, on the evening of that
day which was fixed for the gathering that Lord Kintail had summoned.
"A plague take this MacLeod," said the boatman in Gaelic to his
assistant, as they sat glued to their benches, listening with envy to
the sounds of mirth that came to their ears from within the castle
walls. "A plague upon this MacLeod, who keeps us waiting here in
the cold when we might be warming our toes at a blazing fire, and
cherishing our noses with a goodly flagon of ale!"
"A plague upon him, with all my heart," echoed the other man. "Is it
for him alone that we are condemned to tarry here?"
"Aye, Donald," said the master, "MacLeod is the only man awanting,
it seems; and, sure enough, I think there be plenty without him. Hast
thou ever before seen such an inpouring of eagles' wings into the
Castle of Eilean Donan? There is surely something a-brewing."
"Whatever may be brewing, Master Duncan, we seem to have but little
hope of drinking of it," said the man, laughing heartily at his
own joke.
"Faith, Master Donald, they may be brewing some browst which
neither you nor I would be very eager to drink," replied the master;
"I would rather be turning up a creaming cup of the castle ale than
have aught to do with any such liquor. But hold, heard ye not the
tread of men? Come, loose the rope, and to your oars. That will be
MacLeod at last. Who comes there?" cried he, as he dimly perceived
a small party of men approaching the spot where the boat lay.
"MacLeod!" cried a voice in reply, and immediately a tall and
bulky figure, completely enveloped in an ample plaid, advanced,
and after having given some secret directions to his followers, to
which the impatient boatmen neither cared nor tried to listen, he
stepped solemnly and silently alone into the boat, and was speedily
rowed across.
The hall of Eilean Donan was that night crowded beyond all former
precedent. The feast was already over, and Lord Kintail was then
presiding over the long board, where flowing goblets were circulating
among the numerous guests, who were all his friends or allies, or
who at least feared to declare themselves to be otherwise. But fully
aware of the uncertain materials of which this great assemblage was
composed, the chief of the MacKenzies had most prudently intermingled
the stoutest and bravest individuals of his own clan among these
strangers; and, as was customary in these rude times, each man sat
with his drawn dirk sticking upright in the board before him, ready
for immediate use, in case of its services being required; and this
precaution was the more naturally adopted upon the present occasion,
because every one at that table was jealous and doubtful of those
sitting to right and left of him.
On a sudden the door of the hall was thrown open, and a huge man
strode slowly and erectly into the middle of it. He was muffled up
in a large dark plaid, of some nameless tartan; and it was so folded
over the under part of his face as completely to conceal it; whilst
the upper part of his features was shrouded by the extreme breadth
of the bonnet he wore. His appearance produced a sudden lull in the
loud talk that was then arising from every mouth, the din of which
had been making the vaulted roof to ring again. The name of "MacLeod"
ran in whispers around, and Lord Kintail himself having for a moment
taken up the notion that had at first so generally seized the company,
he signed to his seneschal to usher the stranger towards the upper
end of the table where he himself sat, and where a vacant chair on
his right hand had been left for the chief of Dunvegan.
The stranger obeyed the invitation, indeed; but he sat not down. He
stood erect and motionless for a moment, with all eyes fixed upon him.
"MacLeod!" said the Lord Kintail, half rising to acknowledge his
presence by a bow, "thou art late. We tarried for thee till our
stomachs overmatched our courtesy. But stay, am I right? art thou
MacLeod or not? Come, if thou art MacLeod, why standest thou with thy
face concealed? Unfold thyself and be seated; for there are none but
friends here."
"I am not MacLeod!" said the stranger, speaking distinctly and
deliberately, but in a hollow tone from within the folds of his plaid.
"Who art thou, then, in God's name?" demanded Kintail, with some
degree of confusion of manner.
"I am an outlawed MacDonell," replied the stranger.
"A MacDonell!" cried Kintail, with manifest agitation. "What wouldst
thou under this roof?"
"I am come to throw myself on thy good faith, Lord Kintail, with the
hope that thou mayest be the means of procuring a reversal of the
hard sentence which hath been so unjustly passed upon me and my clan."
"I must first know more of thee," said Kintail. "I can give no promise
until I know who thou art."
"I said I was a MacDonell," replied the other.
"That is a wide name," said Kintail. "Heaven knows that for the peace
of the earth it holds too many that bear that name."
"That may be as men may think," said the stranger, with greater
quickness of articulation.
"What MacDonell art thou, then?" demanded Kintail. "Pray, unmuffle
thy face."
"One MacDonell is like another," said the stranger carelessly.
"That answer will not serve me," said Kintail. "I must see thy
face. And methinks it is a bad sign of thee, that thou shouldst be
ashamed to show it."
"Ashamed!" said the stranger, with emphasis--and then, as if commanding
himself,--"In times of feud like these," added he, after a pause,
"thou canst not ask me to uncover my face before so promiscuous
a company as this, where, for aught I know, I may have some sworn
and deadly personal enemies, who may seek to do me wrong. But give
me thy solemn pledge, Lord Kintail, that I shall suffer no skaith,
and then thou shalt see my face."
"I swear to thee before this goodly assemblage," said Kintail, "that
whoever thou mayest be, or whatever enemies of thine may be amongst
us, thou shalt be skaith-less. Nay, more; for thy brave bearing thou
shalt have free assoilzieing from outlawry and all other penalties,
be thou whom thou mayest, with one exception alone."
"Whom dost thou except?" demanded the stranger, eagerly advancing
his body, but without unveiling his face.
"Glengarry himself," said Lord Kintail.
"By all that is good, Glengarry may well be a proud man by being
so distinguished," said the stranger, with great energy both of
voice and of action. And then, after a short pause, he made one
bold step forward, and throwing wide his plaid, and standing openly
confessed before them all, he exclaimed in a voice like thunder,--"I
am Glengarry!"
There was one moment of fearful silence, during which all eyes were
turned upon the chief of the MacDonells with the fixed stare of
people who were utterly confounded. Then was every dirk plucked from
the board by the right hand of its owner, and the clash which was
thus made among the beakers and flagons was terrific; and the savage
looks which each man darted upon his neighbour, in his apprehension
of treachery, where each almost fancied that the saving of his own
life might depend on the quick dispatching of him who sat next to
him, presented a spectacle which might have frozen the blood of the
stoutest heart that witnessed it. But ere a stroke was struck, or a
single man could leave his place, Glengarry sprang on Kintail with the
swiftness of a falcon on its quarry; and ere he could arm himself,
he seized his victim with the vice-like gripe of his left hand, and
pinned him motionless into his chair, whilst the dirk which he had
concealed under his plaid now gleamed in his right hand, with its
point within an inch of the MacKenzie's throat.
"Strike away, gentlemen," said Glengarry calmly; "but if that be your
game, I have the first cock!"
The MacKenzies had all risen, it is true. Nay, some of them had even
moved a step forward in defence of their chief. But they marked the
gigantic figure of Glengarry; and seeing that the iron strength he
possessed gave him as much power over Lord Kintail as an ordinary
man has over a mere child, and that any movement on their part must
instantly seal his doom, each man of them stepped back and paused,
and an awful and motionless silence once more reigned for some moments
throughout the hall.
"Let any man but stir a finger!" said Glengarry in a calm, slow, yet
tremendous voice, "and the fountain of Lord Kintail's life's-blood
shall spout forth, till it replenish the goblet of him who sits in the
lowest seat at this board! Let not a finger be stirred, and Kintail
shall be skaithless."
"What wouldest thou with me, MacDonell?" demanded Kintail, with
half-choked utterance, that gave sufficient evidence of the rudeness
of that gripe by which his throat was held.
"Thou hast gotten letters of outlawry and of fire and sword against
me and against my clan," said Glengarry.
"I have," said Kintail. "They were sent me because of thy rescue of
certain men of the MacCraws, declared rebels to the King."
"I ask not how or whence thou hadst them," said Glengarry. "But I
would have them instantly produced."
"How shall I produce them, when thou wilt not suffer me nor any one
to move?" said Kintail.
"Let thy chaplain there--that unarmed man of peace--let him produce
them," said Glengarry.
"Go then, good Colin," said Kintail to the chaplain, "go to yonder
cabinet, thou knowest where they lie. Bring them hither."
"This is well!" said Glengarry, clutching the parchments with his armed
hand from the trembling ecclesiastic, and thrusting them hastily into
his bosom. "So far this is well. Now sit thee down, reverend sir,
and forthwith write out a letter from thy lord to the King, fully
clearing me and mine in the eyes of his Majesty from all blame, and
setting forth in true colours my own loyalty and that of my brave
clan. Most cruelly have we been belied, for before these gentlemen
I do here swear that, as God shall be my judge, he hath nowhere more
faithful subjects."
"Use thy pen as he dictates," said Kintail, "for if he speaks thus,
I will freely own he hath been wronged in the false rumours which
have been conveyed to me, and through me to his Majesty."
"'Tis honest at least in thee to say so much, Lord Kintail," said
Glengarry, "and since thou dost grant me this, thine amanuensis here
may as well write me out a short deed pledging thee to the restitution
of those lands of mine which were taken from me, by the King's order,
on former false statements of delinquency. And be expeditious,
dost thou hear, lest thy good lord here may suffer too long from
the inconvenience of this awkward posture in which thou art thyself
detaining him by thy slow and inexpert clerkship."
"Write as thou art bid, and as expeditiously as may be," said Kintail,
sincerely coinciding with Glengarry's last recommendation. Accordingly,
the papers were made out exactly as he desired, signed by Kintail,
and then placed in the capacious bosom of the MacDonell chief.
"All this is so far well," said Glengarry. "Now swear me solemnly
that I shall be permitted to return home without molestation, and
that thou wilt faithfully, and truly, and honestly observe all these
thine engagements."
"I swear!" said Kintail, "I solemnly swear that thou shalt pass hence
and return into thine own country, without a hair of thy head being
hurt; and I shall truly and faithfully observe everything I have
promised, whether in writing or otherwise."
"Then," said Glengarry, quietly relinquishing his grasp, sheathing
his dirk, and coolly seating himself at the board as if nothing had
happened; "then let us have one friendly cup ere we part,--I would
pledge to thy health and to thy rooftree, my Lord Kintail!" and,
saying so, he filled a large goblet of wine and drained it to the
bottom, turning it up when he had finished, to show that he had done
fair justice to the toast.
"Glengarry!" said Kintail, "thou shalt not find me behind thee in
courtesy. Thine to be sure hath been in certain respects somewhat
of the roughest to-night, and I must own," continued he, chafing his
throat, "that a cup of wine never could come to me more desirably than
at this moment, so I now drink to thee as a friend, for enemies though
we have ever been, thy gallant courage has won my full applause."
"And I repeat the pledge, and in the same friendly guise, Kintail,"
said Glengarry taking him by the hand, and squeezing it till this
demonstration of his new-born friendship became almost as inconvenient
to the chief of the MacKenzies, as the effects of his ancient enmity
had so lately been. "And now I must bid you all God-speed in a parting
draught,--Slainte!"
"One cup more, Glengarry, to Deoch-an-dorrus!" said Kintail.
"With all my heart," said Glengarry, and this last pledge was a deep
one. Again he squeezed Kintail's hand, till he made the tears come
into his eyes. "Be assured," said he, "thy letter to the King is in
safe hands, my Lord Kintail, for I shall see it delivered myself."
"Lights and an escort there for Glengarry!" cried Lord Kintail;
and the bold chief of the MacDonells, bowing courteously around him
to all that were assembled in the hall, left them full of wonder at
his hardihood, whilst he was marshalled with all due ceremonial and
honour to the boat, and ferried across to his impatient people. He
found that his little knot of MacDonells, with Alaister More at their
head, had been kept so long in a state of anxiety, and they had begun
to doubt and to fear so much for his safety, that they were on the
very eve of resolving to endeavour to break into the castle, that
they might ascertain what had befallen him, or to die in the attempt.
"My horse, Alaister!" cried Glengarry, as soon as his foot had touched
the shore; and throwing himself into the saddle, he let no grass
grow at his heels till he reached the capital, and was presented at
Court, where he speedily re-established himself in the good opinion
of his sovereign.