30

niSTOET OF ENGLAND.

CHAP.

sin.

168 !).

twinkled through the darkness guided him to a small hovel.The inmates spoke no tongue but the Gaelic, and ■were at firstscared by the appearance of uniforms and arms. But Mackay’sgentle manner removed their apprehension: their language hadbeen familiar to him in childhood; and he retained enough of itto communicate with them. By their directions, and by thehelp of a pocket map, in which the routes through that wildcountry were roughly laid down, he was able to find his way.He marched all night. "When day broke his task was moredifficult than ever. Light increased the terror of his com-panions. Hastings’s men and Leven’s men indeed still behavedthemselves like soldiers. But the fugitives from Ramsay’s werea mere rabble. They had flung away their muskets. Thebroadswords from which they had fled were ever in their eyes.Every fresh object caused a fresh panic. A company of herdsmenin plaids driving cattle was magnified by imagination into a hostof Celtic warriors. Some of the runaways left the main bodyand fled to the hills, where their cowardice met with a properpunishment. They were killed for their coats and shoes; andtheir naked carcasses were left for a prey to the eagles of BenLawers. The desertion would have been much greater, hadnot Maekay and his officers, pistol in hand, threatened to blowout the brains of any man whom they caught attempting tosteal off.

At length the weary fugitives came in sight of Weems Castle.The proprietor of the mansion was a friend to the new govern-ment, and extended to them such hospitality as was in hispower. His stores of oatmeal were brought out: kine wereslaughtered; and a rude and hasty meal was set before thenumerous guests. Thus refreshed, they again set forth, andmarched all day over bog, moor, and mountain. Thinly in-habited as the country was, they could plainly see that thereport of their disaster had already spread far, and that the po-