Chapter 10

With a view of multiplying the chances which might still remain of effecting the anxious object of his expedition, Patrick Stewart had no sooner started again from the heather where they had been seated, than he subdivided his party into several sections, under certain intelligent leaders, and having given to each of them such instructions as he deemed necessary for their guidance, he sent them off in different directions, with orders to meet together again, by nightfall, at the ravine of Cuachan-Seirceag. There they were all to wait till he should join them, unless in the event of the Lady Catherinebeing recovered by any of them, in which case they were to proceed in a body, without tarrying, to carry her straight to Curgarf, leaving one of their number behind them to certify him of the agreeable intelligence. For his own part, he took with him a single attendant only, one of the Curgarf retainers, called Michael Forbes, with whose superior sagacity and activity, some former circumstances had led him to be more particularly acquainted.After all the others had left them, Patrick and his companion began a most particular and persevering search through the forest, and among the mountains, of that part of the country which he had especially marked out and reserved for himself, leaving no spot unexplored that had any thing the least suspicious connected with it. But the wilderness through which they wandered was so wide, and, in many places, so very thickly wooded, that they might have been employed for days in the same way, without his being one whit nearer his object. It is not wonderful, then, that the evening began to manifest its approach, whilst he wasyet actively engaged in laborious travel, yet still he bore on with unremitting exertion, altogether unconscious of the wane of day.The wild scenery by which he was surrounded was beginning to grow dim in the increasing obscurity, when he arrived at the edge of a deep corry or ravine, in the steeply inclined side of a mountain. It was a place, of the existence of which, neither he nor his companion had ever been aware, well as they were both acquainted with the mountains. The precise position of it has been long ago forgotten; and indeed, if it could be guessed at, it is probably now so altered, and blocked up, by the fall of the mountain masses from time to time, as to be no longer in such a state as might admit of its being identified. But it was one of those rugged places of which there are plenty of examples among these mountains. The elevation on the mountain side was not greater than to have allowed Nature, at that time, to have carried the forest partially up around it, and the wood, that in a great measure concealed it, was chiefly composed of the mountain pine. The trees,which were seen struggling against the wintry tempests that prevailed around the summits of the cliffs above, appeared twisted and stunted, yet they grew thickly and sturdily together, as if resolved, like bold Highlanders in possession of a dangerous post, to put shoulder to shoulder for the determined purpose of maintaining their position, in defiance of the raging elements. Their foliage was shorn, not thinned by the blast. On the contrary, it was thickened by it, from that very clipping to which the storms so continually subjected it, so that the shade which was formed by their tops overhead, was thereby rendered just so much the more dense and impenetrable. The narrow and inclined bottom of the immense gully below, was composed of enormous fragments, which had been wedged out by time and frosts from the faces of the overhanging crags, and piled one over the other to an unknown depth, whilst the ground, that sloped rapidly down into it, from the lower part of the abrupt faces of the precipices on either side, was covered with smaller and lighter materials of the same sort, mingled with a certainproportion of soil. There some scattered trees had been enabled to grow to a huge size, from the uninterrupted shelter which the place afforded; but whilst few of these had altogether escaped injury and mutilation from the frequent descent of the stony masses, many of them had been entirely uprooted and overturned, by the immense magnitude of some of those falling rocks which had swept down upon them, and there lay their enormous trunks, resting upon their larger limbs, or upon one another, the whole being tossed and tumbled together in most intricate confusion, so as to cover the rocky fragments beneath them, with one continued and almost impervious naturalchevaux-de-frize.Patrick Stewart halted behind the bole of a tree, and, resting against it, so as to enable him to lean forward over the precipice, he surveyed the gulf below, as accurately as the evening twilight, and the intervening obstacles permitted him to do. He and Michael Forbes then stole slowly and silently along the very verge of it, in that direction that lay down the mountain side, using their eyes sharply andearnestly as they went, and peering anxiously everywhere, with the hope of discovering some track which might tend downwards into the ravine. While so occupied, Patrick became suddenly sensible of the fresh smell of wood smoke. From the manner in which it was necessarily diffused, by the multiplied network of boughs through which it had to ascend, he looked for it in vain for some time, till he accidentally observed one or two bright fiery sparks mount upwards from below, such as may be often seen to arise from a cottage chimney top, when new fuel has been thrown upon the fire by the people within. Marking, with great attention, the spot whence these had proceeded, he commenced a more narrow examination of the edge of the ravine, until he at length discovered a perforation in the brushwood, so small, that it might have been easily mistaken for the avenue leading to the den of some wild beast, but which, a closer inspection persuaded him, might have been used by human creatures, there being quite enough of room for one man at a time to creep through it in astooping posture. At all events he was resolved to explore it, and accordingly, having first stationed his attendant, Michael Forbes, in a concealed place, near to its entrance, that he might watch and give him warning if any one approached from without, he bent himself down, and began his strange and hazardous enterprise.Creeping along, with his bonnet off, and almost on his hands and knees, he found that the track, which inclined gently at first over the rounded edge of the ravine, became, as he proceeded, nearly as steep as an upright ladder, but it was less encumbered with branches than the first part of the way had been, though there was still enough of growth to aid him in his descent, and to take away all appearance of danger. It went diagonally down the face of the cliff, dropping from one narrow ledge of footing in the rock, to that beneath it, with considerable intervals between each. But to one accustomed, as Patrick Stewart was, to scramble like a goat, the difficulties it presented were as nothing. All his anxiety and care was exertedto guard, if possible, against surprise, as well as against making any noise that might betray his approach, to any one who might be harboured in the ravine below.Having at last got to the foot of the precipice, he found it somewhat easier to descend the rugged slope that inclined downwards from its base, and, upon reaching the bottom, he discovered that the track continued to lead onwards under the arched limbs of an overthrown pine, the smaller branches and spray of which, appeared, on a minute examination, to have been evidently broken away by frequent passage through underneath it. This circumstance he had some difficulty in discovering, as the increasing darkness was rendered deeper here, by the overhanging shade of the rocks and trees high above him. Bending beneath the boughs of the fir, he advanced with yet greater caution, and with some difficulty, over the rugged and angular fragments, until he suddenly observed something, that made it prudent for him to halt for a moment, that he might well consider his position. This abrupt stop was occasioned by hisobserving a faint gleam of light, that partially illumined the broad side, and moss-grown edge, of a large mass of stone, a little way in advance of the place where he then was. He hardly breathed, and he tried to listen—and, for a moment, he fancied he heard a murmur like that of human voices. Again he stretched his ear, and again he felt persuaded that he heard the sound of the voices coming hollow on his ear, as if from some cavity, somewhere below the surface, at a little distance beyond him. Resolving at last to proceed, he moved on gently, and upon a nearer approach to the great stone, on the broad edge of which the light fell, he found that it formed one side of a natural entrance to a passage, that led upwards under the enormous superincumbent masses, that had been piled up over it, in their fall from the shattered crags above. Pausing again for a moment, he drew himself up behind a projecting part of another huge stone, that formed the dark side of the entrance, that he might again listen. He was now certain that he distinctly heard voices proceeding from within, though he was not yet nearenough to the speakers to be able to make out their words. The smell of the wood smoke was exceedingly powerful, and his heart began to beat high, for he was now convinced that his adventure was drawing to a crisis.He plucked forth his dirk, and stooped to enter the place. He found the passage to be low, narrow, gently ascending, and running somewhat in an oblique direction, from the illuminated stone at the mouth, for a few paces inwards, till it met with another block of great size. The edges of this block glowed with a brighter light, that seemed to come directly upon it, at a right angle, from some fire, not then visible, but which was evidently blazing within, and which was again reflected from the side of this stone towards that of the stone at the entrance.Having crept onwards to this second fragment of rock, where the passage took its new direction, he discovered that it led into a large, and very irregularly-shaped chamber, which was within a few feet only of the spot which he had now reached, but he had no accurate means of judging of the full extent of the cavern. He couldnow see the rousing fire that was burning in a recess, in the side of the rocky wall of the place, the smoke from which seemed to find its way upwards, through some natural crevice immediately over it, for the interior of this subterranean den was by no means obscured by any great accumulation of it. By the light of the fire, one or two dark holes were seen, apparently forming low passages of connection with other chambers. How many living beings the place might then contain, he had no means of knowing or guessing. All that came within the field of his vision were two persons, which he supposed were those whose voices he had heard. One of these was a slim youth, who was employed in feeding the fire from time to time with pieces of rotten wood and branches, and in attending to a large pot, that hung over it by an iron chain, depending from a strong hook fastened in the rock above. But the youth and his occupations were altogether disregarded by Patrick Stewart, in the intense interest and delight which he experienced in beholding the Lady Catherine Forbes, the fair object of his toilsome search, who sat pensivelyand in tears, on a bundle of heather on the farther side of the fire.You will easily believe, gentlemen, that it was difficult for him to subdue his impatient feelings, so far as to restrain himself from at once rushing forward to snatch her to his arms. But prudence whispered him that her safety might depend on the caution he should use. Ignorant as he was of the extent of the subterranean den, or how it might be tenanted, he felt the necessity of exerting his self-command, and to remain quietly where he was for a little time, until he might be enabled to form some judgment, from what he should see and hear, as to the probable force he should have to contend with, as well as to determine what might be his best plan of action.“If thou wouldst but listen to my entreaty,” said Catherine Forbes, addressing the youth in an earnest tone of supplication, whilst the tears that ran down her cheeks roused Patrick’s feelings to an agonizing pitch of intensity—“If thou wouldst but fly with me, and take me toCurgarf, my father would give thee gold enough to enrich thee and thine for all thy life.”“I tell thee again that it is useless to talk of it, lady,” replied the youth. “I have already told thee that I pity thee, but it were more than my life were worth to do as thou wouldst have me. And what is gold, I pray thee, compared to such a risk?”“Methinks that, once out amidst these wide hills and forests, the risk would be but small indeed,” said Catherine.“That is all true,” replied the youth. “The hills and forests are wide; but the men of the band well know every nook and turn of them. Nay, they are every where, and come pop upon one at the very time when they are least looked for. Holy Virgin, an’ we were to meet any of them as we fled!—My head sits uneasily on my neck at the very thought!—By the Rood, but there would be a speedy divorce between them! and where would your gold be then, lady?”“Then let me go try to explore mine own way without thee,” said the Lady Catherine.“Talk not of it, lady,” replied the youth, impatiently. “My head would go for it, I tell thee.—It would go the moment they should return and find that thou hadst escaped. They may be already near at hand, too, if I mistake not the time of evening. Therefore, teaze me no more, I pray thee.”“Spirits of mine ancestors, give me strength and boldness!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up energetically, after a moment’s pause, during which she seemed to have taken her resolution, and assuming a commanding attitude and air as she spoke.—“Let me pass, young man!—give me way, I say!—or I will struggle with thee to the death, but I will force a passage!”“I have a sharp argument against that,” said the youth, drawing his dirk, and planting himself in the gap before her.—“Stand back!—or thou shalt have every inch of its blade.”“Out of the way, vermin!” cried Patrick Stewart, no longer able to contain his rage, and dashing down the youth before him as he entered.“Patrick!—my dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, flying into his arms with a scream of joy.“My dearest, dearest Catherine!” said Patrick, fondly—“this is indeed to be rewarded!—Wretch!” cried he, grappling the youth by the throat, and putting the point of his dirk to his breast, as he was in the act of rising from the ground, apparently with the intention of making his escape—“Wretch! our safety requires thy death.”“Oh, do not kill me, good Sir Knight!” cried the terrified youth piteously, and with a countenance as pale as a corpse.“Spare him!—spare him!” cried Catherine,—“his worthless life is unworthy of thy blade.”“Oh, mercy, mercy!” cried the youth again.—“Spare me!—spare me!—oh, do not kill me!”“If I did kill thee, it would be no more than what thou hast well merited,” said Patrick.—“But, as thou sayest, Catherine, my love, such worthless blood should never wantonly soil the steel of a brave man; and if I could but makehim secure by any other means, I should be better contented.”“Bind me, if thou wilt, Sir Knight; but, oh, do not!—do not kill me!” cried the youth.“Well then, I will spare thy life, though I half question the wisdom of so doing,” said Patrick.Casting his eyes around the cave, he espied some ropes lying in a dark corner. Catherine flew and brought them to him. He seized them, and quickly bound the youth neck and heel, in such a manner as to make it quite impossible for him to move body or limb, and then, lifting him in his arms, he groped his way with him into the farther end of one of those dark recesses that branched off from the main cavern, and there he deposited him.“Now, let us fly, my love!” cried he, hastily returning to the Lady Catherine. “Every moment we tarry here is fraught with danger.—Follow me quickly!—I grieve to think of the fatigue you must undergo. But cheer up, and trust for your defence, from all danger, to this good arm of mine. Above all things, be silent.”“With thee as my protector I am strong and bold,” said Catherine. “Thanks be to the Virgin for this deliverance!”Patrick now led the Lady Catherine forth into the open air. But before he ventured to proceed, he listened for a moment to ascertain that there was no one near. To his great horror, and to the lady’s death-like alarm, they distinctly heard a footstep slowly and cautiously approaching. Pushing Catherine gently behind the dark mass of stone at the entrance, he placed himself before her in the shadow, that, whilst concealed by it himself, he might have a perfect view of whosoever came, the moment the person should advance into the light, that was reflected on the wall-like side of the rocky mass opposite to him, and fell on the ground for a little space beyond it. He listened, with attention so breathless, that he seemed to hear every beat of his own heart, as well as of that of his trembling companion. The footstep was that of one person only, and he felt as if his resolution was quite equal to an encounter with a dozen; but he knewnot how many might be following, and he was fully conscious of the importance, as regarded the lady, of avoiding a conflict, unless rendered indispensable by circumstances. The step came on, falling gently, at intervals of several moments, as if the individual who approached was unwilling to make the least unnecessary noise. The dim figure of a man at length appeared, under the arched boughs of the fallen pine tree. He advanced, step by step, with increased caution. A dirk blade, which he held forward in his outstretched hand, first caught the stream of reflected light that came from the mouth of the cavern. The next step that the figure took brought his face under its influence; and, to the great relief of Patrick Stewart, displayed the features of Michael Forbes. Patrick gave a low whistle. Michael had at that moment stopped to listen, with a strange expression of dread and horror, to the complaints of the youth who was bound in the innermost recesses of the cavern, whence they came, reduced by its sinuosities, into a low wild moaning sound, that hadsomething supernatural in it, so as to be quite enough to appal any superstitious mind. The whistle startled him.“Michael!” said Patrick in a low tone of voice, “why did’st thou desert thy post?”“Holy virgin, is that you, Sir Knight?” said Michael, in a voice which seemed to convey a doubt whether he was not holding converse with a spirit.“What could make you desert your post?” demanded Patrick, angrily, and at the same time showing himself.“Holy saints, I am glad that it is really you, Sir Knight,” replied Michael. “I crave your pardon, but your long delay led me to fear that something had befallen you, and that you might lack mine aid.”“Had an accident befallen me, Michael,” said Patrick, “thine aid, I fear, would have been of little avail. But we have lost much time by this thy neglect of mine orders. Quick! let us lose no more, and give me thy best help to aid thy mistress, the Lady Catherine.”“The Virgin be praised!” exclaimed Michael, as Catherine appeared; “then the lady is safe!”“But so for only,” replied Patrick Stewart. “We have yet much peril to encounter; but our perils are increased every precious moment that we loiter here. Get thee on quickly before us to the top of the path where it quits the ravine,—the spot, I mean, where I left thee, and see that you be sure to give me good warning, shouldst thou see or hear any thing to cause alarm.”Michael obeyed; and Patrick, having led Catherine out from under the boughs of the fallen pine, began to assist her in ascending the path. He had some difficulty in dragging her up the wild-cat’s ladder that scaled the side of the cliff; but, by the assistance of his strongly nerved arm, she reached the summit without danger. She then forced her way through the narrow passage in the brushwood that grew over the top of the crags, until she had at length the satisfaction of being able to stand erect, to receive the cooling mountain breeze on her flushed cheek and throbbing temples. Butthis was no place for them to rest. Patrick whistled softly, and Michael appeared.“Catherine, my love,” said he, “this is no time for ceremony. Give one arm to Michael, and put the other firmly into mine—so. Now take the best care you can of your footing, and lean well upon me as we go down the mountain side. Oh, how I long to talk to thee! But, dearest, we must be silent as death, for we know not whom we may meet.”After a long, rough, and slippery descent, they came at length into a narrow glen, where the trees grew taller and farther apart from each other. This was so far fortunate for them; for as the shadows of night became deeper here than they had been on the mountain side, they were compelled to move slower; and it required all the care of the Lady Catherine’s supporters, to save her from the injuries she might have sustained from the numerous fallen branches, and other obstacles lying in their way.They had nearly reached the lower extremity of this lesser tributary glen, where it discharged a small rill into the wider glen and stream ofthe Aven, when Patrick Stewart suddenly halted.“Stop!” cried he; “I hear voices on the breeze, and they come this way too. We must up the bank, Michael. Courage, my dearest Catherine! let me help thee to climb. Trust me love, thou hast nothing to fear.”“I fear nothing whilst thou art by my side,” replied Catherine, exerting herself to the utmost.“Now,” said Patrick, after they had half carried her some thirty or forty paces up the steep slope; “we have time to go no farther. Hark! they come! Stretch thyself at length among this long heather, Catherine, and let me throw my plaid over thee. Nay, now I think on’t, Michael’s green one is better, the red of mine might be more visible. There; that will do. Now, Michael, draw thy good claymore, as I do mine. Here are two thick trunks which stand well placed in front of us. Do thou take thy stand behind that one, whilst I post myself behind this, so that both of us may be between the lady and danger. They cannot come at her but by passing between us. Andif they do! But see that thou dost not strike till I give thee the word. Hush! they come!”They had hardly thus disposed of themselves, when the voices drew nearer, and the dusky figures were obscurely seen moving up the bottom of the little glen. They came loitering on, one after another, in what we of the army used to call Indian files,—man following man along the track, where they knew that the footing was likely to be the best. This plan of march necessarily made them longer of passing by, but it relieved those who were lurking in the bank above from any great fear of being discovered by any stray straggler. Two individuals of the party, who had probably some sort of command over the rest, were considerably in advance. These lingered on their way, and halted more than once to give time for those that followed to come up, so that Patrick Stewart caught a sentence or two of the conversation that fell from them.“He must be as cunning as the devil,” said one of them to the other, in Gaelic.“Thou knowest that she has not yet seenhis face,” replied the other; “so that, when he comes to act the part of her deliverer, she will never suspect that it was to him she was indebted for her unwilling travel last night, and her present confinement. And then, you see, he thinks, in this way, to make his own, both of her and her old father, by his pretended gallantry in rescuing her from——”Patrick Stewart in vain stretched his ears to catch more, for on came the rest in closer lines, gabbling together so loudly about trifles, and with voices so commingled, that it was not possible to gather the least sense out of their talk. These all passed onwards; and, a little way behind them, came four other men, who walked very slowly, and stopped occasionally to converse in Gaelic, like people, who were so travel-worn, that they were not sorry to halt now and then, and to rest against a tree for a few moments.“What made Grigor Beg stop behind Allister?” demanded one.“Hoo! you may well guess it was nothing but his old trick,” replied the other. “The boddoch would have fain had me to tarry forhim, that I might help him, by carrying a part of what load he might get. But I was no such fool. My shoulders ache enough already with carrying the rough rungs of that accursed litter last night, to let me wish for any new burden.”“If thou hadst not been carrying the bonny lassie for another’s pleasure, methinks you would maybe have thought less of it,” said a third man.Whilst attentively listening to this dialogue, Patrick Stewart observed some ill-defined object, coming stealing up the slope of the bank, in a diagonal line, from the place a little way down the glen, where the four men had halted. It came on noiselessly, but steadily pointing towards the spot where Catherine lay. It stopped, and uttered a short bark, and Patrick now saw that it was a large, rough, Highland wolf-dog. Again, with its long snout directed towards the plaid that covered Catherine, it barked and snarled.“Dermot, boy!—Dermot!”—cried one of the men from the hollow below.—“What hast thou got there?”As if encouraged by its master’s voice, the animal barked and snarled again yet more eagerly, and seemed to be on the very eve of springing upon the plaid. The blade of Patrick Stewart’s claymore made one swift circuit in the air, and, descending like a flash of lightning on the neck of the creature, his head and his body rolled asunder into different parts of the heather, and again Patrick took his silent but determined stand behind the tree.“Dermot!—Dermot, boy!”—cried the man again from below.—“What think ye is the beast at, lads?”“Some foulmart or badger it may be,” replied another.“Can’st thou not go up and see, man?” said a third.“Go thyself, my good man,” said the dog’s master.—“I am fond enough of the dog—aye, and, for that part, I am fond enough of travel too, but I am content with my share of fagg for this day without going up the brae there to seek for more. A man may e’en have his serving of the best haggis that ever came out of a pot.Trust me, I am for going no foot to-night beyond what I can help.—Dermot—Dermot, boy!—See ye any thing of him at all, lads?”“The last sight that I had of him at all, was near yon dark looking hillock, a good way up the bank yonder,” said another man.“I’m thinking that the brute has winded a passing roebuck,” said the fourth man, “I thought I saw something like a glimmer just against the light cloud yonder above, as if it had been the dog darting over the height, the very moment after the last bark he gave.”“Dermot! whif-hoo-if!” cried the dog’s master, and, at the same time, whistling shrilly upon his fingers. “Tut! the fiend catch him for me! let him go! I’ll be bound that he’ll be home before us.”“Come, then, let’s on!” said another, “I wonder much that Grigor Beg hath not come up with us ere this.”“Hulloah, Grigor!” shouted one of them. “No, no, we’ll not see him so soon, I’ll warrant ye.”“Come! come away, lads!” said another,moving on with the rest following him. “I’ll be bound that the boddoch hath got a swingeing load upon his back.”“Awell!” said one of the first speakers, “rather him than me. But we shan’t be the worse of it when it’s well broiled, for all that. I’m sure I wish I had a bit of it at this moment, for I’m famishing. I’m dead tired to-night; I hope that we may have some rest to-morrow. Know ye aught that is to do?”“I heard the Captain say that”——but the rest of the dialogue was cut off by the distance which the men had by this time reached.“Thanks be to St. Peter, they are gone at last!” said Patrick Stewart. “How my fingers itched to have a cut at the villains.—Catherine,” continued he, lifting the plaid, and assisting her to rise, “art thou not half dead with terror? But courage, my love. There lies the murderous four-footed savage, whose fell fangs had so nearly been busied with the plaid that covered thee. If we may trust to what we have just heard, there is but one manto come; and, judging by the name of Beg1which they gave him, he ought to be no very formidable person. Michael, get thee on a few steps in front, and keep a good look out for him. Were we but out of this narrow place, and fairly into the wider glen of the Aven, we should have less to fear, and then we shall find means to carry thee.”“Thanks to the Virgin, I am yet strong,” said Catherine. “Let us fly, then, with all speed.”A farther walk, of a few minutes only, brought them into Glen Aven, and they pursued its downward course, for a considerable length of way, until Patrick Stewart began to perceive something like fatigue in the Lady Catherine’s step. He therefore halted, and made her sit down to rest a while. In the mean time, he and Michael Forbes contrived to hew down two small sapling fir trees, by the aid of their good claymores, and having tied their plaids between them,they, in this manner, very speedily constructed a tolerably easy litter for the lady to recline at length in. This they carried between them, by resting the ends of the poles upon their shoulders, Patrick making Michael Forbes go foremost, and reserving the place behind for himself. I need hardly tell you that the Stewart especially selected that position, for the obvious reason that he might be thereby enabled to cheer the Lady Catherine’s spirits, and to lighten her fatigues, by now and then addressing a word or two of comfort to her as they went. In this manner they pursued their way down the glen, until the loud roar of many waters informed them that they were approaching the grand waterfall, called the Lynn of Aven. You will have ample opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with all the details of this fine scene, gentlemen, as you go up the glen to-morrow. But in the meanwhile, I may tell you generally, that the whole of this large river, there precipitates itself headlong, through a comparatively narrow chasm in the rocks, into a long, wide, and extremely deep pool below.The sound increased as the bearers of the litter drew nearer to the waterfall, and the rocky and confined passage, over which they had to make their way, compelled them to walk at greater leisure, and to select their footing with more caution. Fortunately they had now the advantage of the moon, which had been for some time shining favourably upon them, and they were already within a very few steps of coming immediately over the waterfall, when they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful and most unearthly shriek. It came apparently from the very midst of the descending column of water below them.“Holy Virgin Mother!” cried Michael Forbes, halting, and backing like a restive horse, so unexpectedly, that the ends of the poles were nearly jerked from Patrick Stewart’s shoulders, by the shock which was thus communicated to them. “Holy Mother, didst thou not hear that, Sir Knight?”“I did hear something,” said Stewart, not quite willing to increase that dread which he perceived was already quite sufficiently excitedin his companion, and of which he could not altogether divest himself. “I did fancy that I heard something. But for the love of the Virgin take care what thou dost. Thou hadst almost shaken the poles from my shoulders by thy sudden start.—Come! proceed man!”Again, a louder, and more appalling shriek arose from the midst of the cataract, piercing their ears above all the roaring of its thunder.“For the love of all the saints, let us turn back, Sir Knight!” cried Michael. “It is the water-kelpie himself!”“Nay,” said Patrick Stewart; “back we may not go, without the risk of falling again into the very jaws of the Catteranes. They are no doubt hard on foot after us by this time.—Forward then, and fear not!”Again came the wild shriek, if possible louder and more terrible than before.“For the love of God, Sir Knight, back!” cried Michael, now losing all command of himself, and forcing the litter so backwards upon Patrick Stewart, as to compel him, from the narrowness of the rocky shelf where they thenstood, to retreat in a corresponding degree, to avoid the certain alternative of being precipitated over the giddy ledge into the boiling stream of the Aven. “For the love of God, back, I say! were it but for a few paces, till we have leisure to lay down our burden, and cross ourselves.”“Merciful saints! what will become of us?” cried the Lady Catherine, in great alarm.“Now,” said Patrick Stewart, after yielding a few steps, “now, we may surely halt here till thy courage return to thee, Michael. What a fiend hath so unmanned thee to-night? I thought thou hadst been brave as a lion.”“A fiend indeed, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, as they were laying down the litter; “I trust that I lack not courage, at any time, to face any mortal foe that ever came before me. But,” added he, eagerly crossing himself, “to meet with the devil thus in one’s very path!—Good angels be about us, heard ye not that scream again? Have mercy upon us all!”“There is something very strange in this,” said Patrick Stewart. “But this will neverdo. We cannot tarry here long without the certainty of being overtaken by the whole body of the Catteranes. By this time they must be well on their way in pursuit of us.”“Holy Virgin! what will become of us if we should fall into their hands?” cried the Lady Catherine, in an agony of distress.“Fear not, my love!” said Patrick Stewart; “I will forthwith fathom this mystery. I will see whence these horrible screams proceed.”“Nay, Sir Patrick, tempt not thy fate,” cried Michael. “If thou dost, thou goest to thy certain destruction.”“Oh stir not, dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up from the litter, and endeavouring to detain him. “Do not attempt so great, so dreadful a danger.”“Catherine, my dearest!” said Patrick, fondly taking her hands in his; “listen to reason, I entreat thee. The danger that presses on us from behind is imminent, and more than what two swords, good as they may be, could by any means save thee from. And since God hath given us strength to flee from it, he willnot forsake me in a conflict with the powers of hell, should they stand in my way. I go forward in his holy name, then; have no fear for me therefore. Rest thine arm upon Michael, dearest—tell thy beads, and may the blessed Virgin hover over thee to protect thee! As for you, Michael, draw your claymore, and stir not a step from the lady till I call thee.”Patrick Stewart now crossed himself, and then strode, slowly and resolutely, along the narrow ledge of rock towards the roaring lynn, repeating a paternoster as he went. The moon was by this time high in the heavens, and its beams produced a faint tinge of the rainbow’s hues, as they played among the mists that arose from the waterfall. The shrieks that came from below were now loud and incessant, and might have quailed the stoutest heart. But still Patrick advanced firmly, till he stood upon a shelving rock, forming the very verge of the roaring cataract, whence he could throw his eyes directly downwards, through the shooting foam, into the abyss below. Far down, in the midst of the rising vapour, and apparently suspendedin it, close by the edge of the descending column of water, he could distinguish a dark object. New and more piercing screams arose from it. He bent forward, and looked yet more intently. To his no inconsiderable dismay, he beheld a fearful head rear itself, as it were from out of it; the long hair by which it was covered, and the immense beard that flowed from the chin, hanging down, drenched by the surrounding moisture, and the eyes glaring fearfully in the moonlight, whilst the terrific screams were inconceivably augmented. Appalled as he was by this most unaccountable apparition, Patrick was shifting his position, in order to lean yet more forward, that he might the better contemplate it, when the toe of his sandal grazed against something that had nearly destroyed his equilibrium, and sent him headlong over the rock. Having, with some difficulty, recovered himself, he stooped down to ascertain what had tripped him, when he found, to his surprise, that it was a rope. He now remembered, that the feudal tenant of the neighbouring ground, who owed service to hisfather, Sir Allan, was accustomed to hang a conical creel, or large rude basket, by the edge of the fall, for the purpose of catching the salmon that fell into it, after failing in their vain attempts to leap up.“Ho, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, in that voice of thunder, which he required to exert in order to overcome the continuous roar of the cataract.“Oh, help! help! help!” cried the fearful head from below.“Man or demon, I will see what thou art!” cried Patrick, stooping down to lay hold of the rope, with the intention of making an attempt to pull up the creel.“For the love of Saint Andrew, lay not a hand on the rope, Sir Knight, as thou may’st value thy life!” said Michael Forbes, who, having heard Patrick’s loud shout, had been hurried off to his aid by the fears and the commands of the Lady Catherine.“Why hast thou left the lady, caitiff?” demanded Patrick Stewart, angrily. “Did I not tell thee to stay with her till I should call thee?”“We heard thee call loudly, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, trembling more from his proximity to the place whence the screams had issued, than from any thing that Patrick had said.“True, I had forgotten,” replied Patrick; “I did call, though not on thee. But since thou art here, come lend me thy hand to pull up the basket.”“Nay, Sir Knight; surely thou art demented by devilish influence. For the love of all the saints!” cried Michael, quaking from head to foot; “for the love of ——”“Dastard, obey my command, or I will hurl thee over the rock!” cried Patrick furiously, and with a manner that showed Michael that it was time to obey. “Now, pull—pull steadily and firmly; pull away, I say!”“Have mercy on us! have mercy on our souls!” cried Michael, pulling most unwillingly.“What a fiend are you afraid of? Why don’t you pull, I say?” cried the Knight again.“Jesu Maria protect me! that I should have a hand in any such work!” muttered Michael. “Oh holy Virgin! to have thus to deal with the Devil himself!”“Come! pull!—pull away, I tell ye—pull! aye, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, as the basket at last came to the top of the rock.“Preserve us all!” cried Michael; “the water-kelpie, sure enough! Mercy on us, what a fearful red beard! what terrible fiery eyes! For the love of heaven, Sir Knight, let him down again!”“Coward!” cried Patrick, “if you let go the rope, I’ll massacre thee! Now, do you hear? pull the creel well out this way.—Ha, that will do!—Now I think it is safe.”“Oh, may the blessed saints reward thee!” said a little shred of a man, who now arose, shaking in a palsy of cold and wet, from the midst of at least a dozen large salmon, with which the creel was heaped up; “Thou hast saved me from the most dreadful of deaths.”“How camest thou there?” demanded Patrick Stewart; “answer quickly, for we are in haste.”“Oh, I know not well how I got there,” said the little man, shivering so that he could hardly speak. “I stept aside from the path, just totake a look down to see if there were any salmon in the creel, when something took my foot, and over I went. Oh, what a providence it was that ye came by! Another hour, and I must have been dead from cold and wet, and buried in salmon, for they were flying in upon me like so many swallows. I thought they would have choked me.”“Here,” said Patrick Stewart, taking out a flask, “take a sup of this cordial; it will speedily restore thee.”“Oh, blessings on thee, Sir Knight!” said the little man; “I will drink thy health with good will. But tell me thy name, I pray thee, that I may know, and never forget, who it was that saved my life.”“I am Patrick Stewart of Clan-Allan,” replied the knight carelessly. “Come now, Michael, we must tarry here no longer.”“Sure I am that I shall never forget the name of Sir Patrick Stewart,” said the little man, whilst he was following them along the narrow path, as they retraced it towards the place where they had left the Lady Catherine; “and ifever I can do thee a good turn I shall do it, though it were by the sacrifice of my life.”Catherine’s fears were soon allayed by the explanation that was given her. She was again put into the litter, which was quickly shouldered by her protectors, the little man lending them a willing helping hand; and Patrick and Michael proceeded on their way, whilst the half-drowned wretch went up the glen, pouring out blessings upon them. Without fear or interruption they now passed by the spot which had occasioned them so much dread and delay, and they soon left the roar of the lynn behind them, and at length reached the ravine of Cuachan Searceag, where, much to their relief, they found the whole of the party anxiously waiting for them. When the Forbeses beheld Patrick Stewart, and, above all, when they beheld their young mistress, the daughter of their Chief, safe and well among them, they rent the air with shouts of joy that made the whole glen ring again.“Aye,” said Patrick Stewart, as they sat down to rest a little while, and to take some hasty refreshment, “We may now make whatnoise we list, for, if the whole gang of these accursed Catteranes should come upon us, we have brave hearts and keen claymores enow to meet them. But, for all that, we have too precious a charge with us to tarry for the mere pleasure of a conflict; so be stirring my men, and let us breast the hill as fast as may be.”You may all well enough guess, gentlemen, how Patrick Stewart was received by the old Lord of Curgarf when he entered his hall, leading in his fair daughter safe and sound. The joy of the father was not the less, that his son, Arthur the Master of Forbes, had returned but a brief space of time before, jaded, dispirited, and sorrowful, from his long, tiresome, and fruitless expedition. Worn with anxiety, the old man had counted watch after watch of the night, and the day and the night again, until his son’s arrival, and then he had sunk into the most overwhelming despair. After pouring forth thanks to Heaven, and to all the saints, he now gave way to his joy. The midnight feast was spread, and all was revelry and gladness in the castle. Patrick Stewart was now viewed by him as his guardian angel. Seeing this, Arthur Forbestook an opportunity of advising his friend to profit by the happy circumstance which had now placed him so high in his father’s good opinion. He did so—and the result was, that he obtained the willing consent of the old Lord of Curgarf to his union with his daughter, the Lady Catherine, with the promise of a tocher which should be worthy of her.The happiness of the lovers was now complete, and the next day was spent in open and unrestrained converse between them. The time was fixed for the wedding, and then it was, after all these arrangements had been made, that Patrick Stewart first had leisure fully torecallto mind, all those afflicting circumstances which had taken place when he last saw his brother Walter. He thought of his father—he felt the necessity of going immediately home, to relieve any anxiety which his father, Sir Allan, might have, in consequence of his unexplained absence, as well as to make him acquainted with his approaching marriage. He accordingly took a tender leave of his fair bride that evening, and, starting next morning, he made his way over the hills to Drummin.Patrick Stewart was already within sight of home, when his attention was arrested by the blast of a bugle, which rang shrilly from the hill above him. It conveyed to him that private signal which was always used between his brother Walter and himself. For the first time in his life it grated harshly in his ear, for it immediately brought back to his recollection those oppressively painful circumstances which had occurred at Dalestie, which he had so studiously endeavoured to banish from his memory. But the strong tide of brotherly affection within him was too resistless not to sweep away every feeling connected with the past. He applied his bugle to his lips, and returned the call; and, looking up the side of the hill, he beheld Walter, and a party of the Clan-Allan, hastening down through the scattered greenwood to meet him.“Thanks be to Heaven and good Saint Hubert that I see thee safe, my dearest Patrick,” said Sir Walter, hurrying towards him, and warmly embracing him. “Hast thou forgiven a brother’s anger and unkindness?”“Could’st thou believe that I could for a moment remember it, my dear Walter?” replied Patrick, returning his embrace.“Where in the name of wonder hast thou been wandering?” demanded Sir Walter. “Wherehast thou been since that night—that night of justice, yet of horror—when you disappeared so mysteriously? Since that moment, when I returned home and found thee not, I have done little else, night or day, but travel about hither and thither, anxiously seeking for tidings of thee.”“Let us walk apart,” said Patrick in his ear, “and I will tell thee all that has befallen me.”“Willingly,” said Sir Walter in the same tone; “for, in exculpation of myself, I would now fain pour into thy private ear all those circumstances which secretly urged me to execute that stern act of justice and necessity, which then thou could’st not comprehend, and against which thy recoiling humanity did naturally enough compel thee so urgently to protest.”Arm in arm the two brothers then walked onalone, at such a distance before their clansmen as might insure the perfect privacy of their talk, and long ere they reached Drummin, they had fully communicated to each other all that they had mutually to impart. Old Sir Allan had been querulous and impatient about Patrick’s absence, and he had been every now and then peevishly inquiring about him. But now that his son appeared, he seemed to have forgotten that he had not been always with him. He was pleased and proud when the contemplated marriage was communicated to him, and he enjoined Sir Walter to see to it, that every thing handsome should be done on the occasion. In this respect, Sir Walter’s generosity required no stimulus; and if Patrick was dissatisfied at all, it was with the over liberality which his brother manifested, which, in some particulars, he felt inclined to resist.“Patrick,” said Sir Walter aside to his brother, with a more than ordinarily serious air, “I give thee but thine own in advance. One day or other it will be all thine own. There is something within me that tells me that I am notlong for this world. The last words of that wretch, delivered to me, as I told thee, from the midst of those flames that consumed him, were prophetic. But, be that as it may, I have never had thoughts of marrying, and now I am firmly resolved that I never shall marry, so that thou art the sole prop of our house.”The entrance of the retainers, and the spreading of the evening meal, put a stop to all farther conversation between the brothers. Patrick had not yet seen either the Lady Stradawn, or her son Murdoch. On inquiry, he was told that Murdoch had gone on some unknown expedition on the previous day, and that he had not yet returned. A circumstance, so common with him, excited no surprise. As for the Lady Stradawn, she now came swimming into the hall, with her countenance clothed in all its usual smiles. Her salutation to her stepsons was full of well-dissembled warmth and affection. She hastened, with her wonted affectation of fondness, to bustle about Sir Allan, with the well-feigned pretence of anxiety to attend to his wants, after which she took her place at the head of the board. It wasthen that Patrick’s eyes became suddenly fixed upon her with a degree of astonishment, which, fortunately for him, the busy occupation of every one else at the table left them no leisure to observe. To his utter amazement, he beheld in her bosom that very garnet brooch which he had given to Catherine Forbes! His first impulse was to demand from her an explanation of the circumstances by which she had become possessed of it; but a little reflection soon enabled him to control his feelings, though he continued to sit gazing at the well-known jewel, altogether forgetful of the feast, until the lady arose to retire to her chamber.“My dearest Sir Allan,” said she, going up to the old knight’s chair to bestow her caresses on him ere she went; “My dearest Sir Allan, thou hast eaten nothing for these two days. What can I get for thee that may tickle thy palate into thy wonted appetite? Said’st thou not something of a deer’s heart, for which thou hadst a longing? ’Tis a strange fancy, I’m sure.”“Oh, aye! very true,—a deer’s heart!” said the doting old man. “Very true, indeed, my love. I did dream—oh, aye—I dreamed, I say, Bella, that I was eating the rosten heart of a stag—of a greathart of sixteen,2killed by my boys on the hill of Dalestie—aye, aye—and with arrows feathered from an eagle’s wing. As I ate, and better ate, I always grew stronger and stronger, till at length I was able to rise from my chair as stoutly as ever I did in my life—ouch, aye! that day is gone! Yet much would I like to eat the rosten heart of a deer; but it would need to be that of a great hart of sixteen.”“My dear father, thou shalt not want that,” said Sir Walter; “thou shalt have it ere I am a day older, if a hart of sixteen be to be found between this and Loch Aven.”“Aye, aye, Walter boy, as thou sayest,” said the old man; “a great hart of sixteen—else hath the heart of the beast no potency in’t—aye, and killed with an arrow feathered from an eagle’s wing—och, aye—hoch-hey!”Though the two brothers were satisfied that this was nothing but the drivelling of age, they were not the less anxiously desirous to gratify their father’s wish to the very letter. Accordingly, the necessary orders were given, and the trusty Dugald Roy3was forthwith summoned to prepare six arrows, which would have been easily supplied, with the small portions of feather which were necessary for them, from the eagle wing in Sir Walter’s bonnet. But Sir Allan stopped him as he was about to tear it off.“What, Sir!” exclaimed the old man testily, and in a state of agitation that shook every fibre of his frame like a palsy;—“What! wouldst thou shear the eagle plume of my boy Walter, thou ill-omened bird that thou art? Yonder hangs mine; it can never more appear bearing proudly forward in the foremost shock of the battle-field. Och, hey, that is true! Take that, thou raven! Thou may’st rend it as ye list. But, my boy’s!—the proud plume of mine eldest born boy!—thou shalt never take that!”“I crave your pardon, Sir Knight,” replied Dugald Roy; “and now I think on’t, I need not take either, for I have some spare wing feathers in my store that will do all the turn.”The next morning saw Sir Walter and his brother Patrick early on foot, dressed in their plainest hunting attire, stretching up the valley at the head of their attendants. Each of the brothers had three of the eagle-winged arrows stuck into his belt; for, as both were dexterous marksmen, and as they had resolved to use their shafts against nothing else but a great hart of sixteen, they felt themselves to be thus most amply provided to insure success. Fortune was somewhat adverse to them, however; for although they saw deer in abundance, they found themselves in this very part of the valley, when the day was already far spent, without having once had a chance of effecting their object.“Look ye there, brother Walter!” at length cried Patrick Stewart suddenly, as he pointed to a hart with a magnificent head, which was crossingto this side of the river, at the ford you see above yonder. “Look ye there brother! there he goes at last!”“By the rood, but that is the very fellow we want,” replied Sir Walter. “Watch him! See!—he takes the hill aslant. He will not go far, if we may judge from his present pace.”“I saw him walk over that open knoll in the wood high up yonder,” said Patrick, after some minutes of pause. “He has no mind to go farther than the dip of the hill above. I think that we are sure of finding him there. What say you brother?”“Thou art right, Patrick,” said Walter. “Then do thou run on, and take the long hollow in the hill-side, beyond the big pine tree yonder. I will follow up the slack behind us here. Let your sweep be wide, that we may be sure of stalking well in beyond him, so that, if we fail of getting proper vantage of him, we may be sure that we drive him not farther a-field. Let us take no sleuth-hound, nor bratchet neither, lest, perchance, we cause himalarm. You, my merry men, will tarry here for us with the dogs.”Off went the two brothers, each in his own direction, and each with his bow in his hand, and his three arrows in his belt. In obedience to Sir Walter’s directions, Patrick hurried away to the great pine tree, and then began his ascent through the long hollow in the woody mountain’s side with all manner of expedition. After a long and fatiguing climb, he began to use less speed and more caution, as he approached nearer to the somewhat less steep ground, where his hopes lay. Then it was that he commenced making a long sweep around, stealing silently from tree to tree, and concealing himself, as much as he could, by keeping their thick trunks before him, and creeping along among the heather, where such a precaution was necessary. Having completed his sweep to such an extent as led him to believe that he had certainly got beyond the hart, he was about to creep down the hill, in the hope of soon coming upon him, when he chanced toobserve a great uprooted pine, which lay prostrated a little way farther on, and somewhat above the spot where he then was, its head rising above the heather like a great green hillock. Thinking that he might as well have one peep beyond it before he turned downwards, and wishing to avail himself of its shade to mask his motions, he took a direct course towards it. But it so happened, that the hart had found it equally convenient for the same purpose, as well as for a place of outlook, for it had taken post close to it, on the farther side. Descrying Patrick Stewart through an accidental opening in the foliage, and having no fancy to hold nearer converse with him, the creature moved slowly away. His quick and practised eye caught a view of it through the opening, as it was going away up the hill, as it happened, in a direct line. Well experienced in woodcraft, he, in a loud voice, called out “hah!” As is common with red deer when in the woods, the hart made a sudden halt, and wheeled half round to listen, and in this way he placed his broadside to the hunter’s eye. This was butfor an instant, to be sure; but in that instant Patrick Stewart’s arrow, passing through the break in the foliage of the pine, fixed itself deep into the shoulder of the hart.“Clumsily done!” exclaimed Patrick Stewart from very vexation as he saw the hart bound off. “I’ll warrant me the arrow-head is deep into his shoulder blade. One single finger’s breadth more behind it would have made him mine own, and with all the cleverness of perfect woodcraft.”Patrick, baulked and disappointed, now extended his sweep, and crossed and re-crossed the ground, with the hope of meeting his brother Sir Walter; but as he did not succeed in falling in with him, he followed the track of the hart for some distance up the hill, until he lost every trace of his slot upon the dry summit, after which he returned with all manner of haste to make his way downwards to the party in the valley below. This he did, partly with the expectation of meeting his brother Sir Walter there, and partly with the intention of getting the dogs, that he might make an attempt to recoverhis wounded hart. There he found—not his brother Sir Walter—but his brother Murdoch—who stood exulting over a dead stag. He was a great hart of sixteen, just such an one as he himself had been after.“Thou see’st that I have the luck,” said Murdoch Stewart triumphantly.“Whence camest thou, Murdoch? and how comes this?” demanded Patrick.“All naturally enough, brother,” replied Murdoch Stewart carelessly. “As I was wandering idly on the hill-side above there, I espied the people here below, so I came sauntering down to see what they were about, and to hear news of ye all. But, as my luck would have it, I had hardly been with them the pattering of a paternoster, when the very hart that thou wentest after came bang down upon me—my shaft fled—and there he lies. Mark now, brother, is he not well and cleanly killed? Observe—right through the neck you see. But, ha!—it would seem that thou hast spent an arrow too—for these fellows tell me that thou tookest threewith thee, and methinks thou hast but twain left in thy belt.”“I used one against the hart I went after,” said Patrick coldly.“And missed him, brother—is’t not so?” said Murdoch laughing. “Well, I never hoped that I should live to wipe thine eye in any such fashion; for these varlets all say that this is the very hart that thou went’st after.”“Nay, then,” replied Patrick with an air of indifference; “if this be the hart I went after, I must have found another great hart of sixteen the very marrow of him; and him I have so marked, that I’ll be sworn he will be known again; for I promise you that at this moment he beareth wood on his shoulder as well as on his head.”“The hart thou sayest that thou sawest may be like Saint Hubert’s stag for aught I know,” said Murdoch; “but it is clear, from all that these fellows say, that there lies the very hart that thou went’st forth to kill, and that is no arrow of thine that hath fixed itself in his gullet.”“I did see a hart—draw my bow at a hart—and sorely wound a hart,” said Patrick, rather testily; “and were it not that the scent is cold, and the hour so late, I think that the sleuth-hounds there, would soon help me to prove to thee that he is as fine a hart of sixteen as this which thou hast slain.”“Cry your mercy, brother,” said Murdoch; “I knew not that such great harts of sixteen had been so rife hereabouts, as that one should start up as a butt for thine arrow the moment that the other had been lost to thee. Yet it is clear that thou hast spent an arrow upon something.—Ha!—by the way—where is our brother Walter? They tell me that he went up the hill-side with thee.”“After seeking for him on the hill-side in vain, I reckoned on finding him here,” replied Patrick. “But if he be within a mile of us I’ll make him answer.”He put his bugle to his lips, and awakened the echoes, with such sounds as were understood between Sir Walter and himself; but the echoes alone replied to him.“He may have met with a deer which mayhave led him off in pursuit over the hill,” said Patrick.“Aye,” said Murdoch; “he may have fallen in with your hart of sixteen—yea, or another, for aught I know, seeing that harts of sixteen are now so rife on these hills.”“Fall in with what he might, he is not the man to give up his game easily,” said Patrick, somewhat keenly.“Whatever may have befallen him,” said Murdoch, “we can hardly hope to see him hereabouts to-night.”“I hope we may see him at Drummin,” said Patrick; “for as the night is now drooping down so fast, he will most readily seek the straightest way thither. So, as thou hast now made sure of a great hart of sixteen for Sir Allan, we may as well turn our steps thitherward without more delay.”On reaching Drummin, Patrick Stewart’s first inquiry was for his brother Sir Walter. He had not returned home; but it was yet early in the night, and he might have been led away to such a distance as to require the greater part ofthe night to bring him home. The hart was borne up to the hall in triumph, and exhibited before Sir Allan, with the arrow still sticking in his neck. The old man’s countenance was filled with joy and exultation when he beheld it. The Lady Stradawn could not contain her triumph.“So, Murdoch,” said she, “thou art the lucky man who hath killed the much longed for venison! Thou art the lucky man who hath brought thy father the food for which his soul so yearneth! There is something of good omen for thee in this, my boy!”“A noble head!—a great hart of sixteen, indeed,” said Sir Allan. “Aye, aye, that is a head, that is a head indeed! Yet have I slain many as fine in my time. Aye, aye,—but those days are gone; och, hey! gone indeed. See what a cuach his horn hath. Yet that which I slew up at Loch Aven had a bigger cuach than this one by a great deal. As I live, you might have slaked your thirst from the hollow of it the drowthiest day you ever saw. Yet this is a good hart—a noble hart of sixteen,—aye, aye! hoch-hey! But, hey! what’s this? A goose-winged shaft?Did I not tell ye that my dream spake of an eagle’s wing? His heart will be naught after all—naught, naught—och, hey! och, hey!”

With a view of multiplying the chances which might still remain of effecting the anxious object of his expedition, Patrick Stewart had no sooner started again from the heather where they had been seated, than he subdivided his party into several sections, under certain intelligent leaders, and having given to each of them such instructions as he deemed necessary for their guidance, he sent them off in different directions, with orders to meet together again, by nightfall, at the ravine of Cuachan-Seirceag. There they were all to wait till he should join them, unless in the event of the Lady Catherinebeing recovered by any of them, in which case they were to proceed in a body, without tarrying, to carry her straight to Curgarf, leaving one of their number behind them to certify him of the agreeable intelligence. For his own part, he took with him a single attendant only, one of the Curgarf retainers, called Michael Forbes, with whose superior sagacity and activity, some former circumstances had led him to be more particularly acquainted.After all the others had left them, Patrick and his companion began a most particular and persevering search through the forest, and among the mountains, of that part of the country which he had especially marked out and reserved for himself, leaving no spot unexplored that had any thing the least suspicious connected with it. But the wilderness through which they wandered was so wide, and, in many places, so very thickly wooded, that they might have been employed for days in the same way, without his being one whit nearer his object. It is not wonderful, then, that the evening began to manifest its approach, whilst he wasyet actively engaged in laborious travel, yet still he bore on with unremitting exertion, altogether unconscious of the wane of day.The wild scenery by which he was surrounded was beginning to grow dim in the increasing obscurity, when he arrived at the edge of a deep corry or ravine, in the steeply inclined side of a mountain. It was a place, of the existence of which, neither he nor his companion had ever been aware, well as they were both acquainted with the mountains. The precise position of it has been long ago forgotten; and indeed, if it could be guessed at, it is probably now so altered, and blocked up, by the fall of the mountain masses from time to time, as to be no longer in such a state as might admit of its being identified. But it was one of those rugged places of which there are plenty of examples among these mountains. The elevation on the mountain side was not greater than to have allowed Nature, at that time, to have carried the forest partially up around it, and the wood, that in a great measure concealed it, was chiefly composed of the mountain pine. The trees,which were seen struggling against the wintry tempests that prevailed around the summits of the cliffs above, appeared twisted and stunted, yet they grew thickly and sturdily together, as if resolved, like bold Highlanders in possession of a dangerous post, to put shoulder to shoulder for the determined purpose of maintaining their position, in defiance of the raging elements. Their foliage was shorn, not thinned by the blast. On the contrary, it was thickened by it, from that very clipping to which the storms so continually subjected it, so that the shade which was formed by their tops overhead, was thereby rendered just so much the more dense and impenetrable. The narrow and inclined bottom of the immense gully below, was composed of enormous fragments, which had been wedged out by time and frosts from the faces of the overhanging crags, and piled one over the other to an unknown depth, whilst the ground, that sloped rapidly down into it, from the lower part of the abrupt faces of the precipices on either side, was covered with smaller and lighter materials of the same sort, mingled with a certainproportion of soil. There some scattered trees had been enabled to grow to a huge size, from the uninterrupted shelter which the place afforded; but whilst few of these had altogether escaped injury and mutilation from the frequent descent of the stony masses, many of them had been entirely uprooted and overturned, by the immense magnitude of some of those falling rocks which had swept down upon them, and there lay their enormous trunks, resting upon their larger limbs, or upon one another, the whole being tossed and tumbled together in most intricate confusion, so as to cover the rocky fragments beneath them, with one continued and almost impervious naturalchevaux-de-frize.Patrick Stewart halted behind the bole of a tree, and, resting against it, so as to enable him to lean forward over the precipice, he surveyed the gulf below, as accurately as the evening twilight, and the intervening obstacles permitted him to do. He and Michael Forbes then stole slowly and silently along the very verge of it, in that direction that lay down the mountain side, using their eyes sharply andearnestly as they went, and peering anxiously everywhere, with the hope of discovering some track which might tend downwards into the ravine. While so occupied, Patrick became suddenly sensible of the fresh smell of wood smoke. From the manner in which it was necessarily diffused, by the multiplied network of boughs through which it had to ascend, he looked for it in vain for some time, till he accidentally observed one or two bright fiery sparks mount upwards from below, such as may be often seen to arise from a cottage chimney top, when new fuel has been thrown upon the fire by the people within. Marking, with great attention, the spot whence these had proceeded, he commenced a more narrow examination of the edge of the ravine, until he at length discovered a perforation in the brushwood, so small, that it might have been easily mistaken for the avenue leading to the den of some wild beast, but which, a closer inspection persuaded him, might have been used by human creatures, there being quite enough of room for one man at a time to creep through it in astooping posture. At all events he was resolved to explore it, and accordingly, having first stationed his attendant, Michael Forbes, in a concealed place, near to its entrance, that he might watch and give him warning if any one approached from without, he bent himself down, and began his strange and hazardous enterprise.Creeping along, with his bonnet off, and almost on his hands and knees, he found that the track, which inclined gently at first over the rounded edge of the ravine, became, as he proceeded, nearly as steep as an upright ladder, but it was less encumbered with branches than the first part of the way had been, though there was still enough of growth to aid him in his descent, and to take away all appearance of danger. It went diagonally down the face of the cliff, dropping from one narrow ledge of footing in the rock, to that beneath it, with considerable intervals between each. But to one accustomed, as Patrick Stewart was, to scramble like a goat, the difficulties it presented were as nothing. All his anxiety and care was exertedto guard, if possible, against surprise, as well as against making any noise that might betray his approach, to any one who might be harboured in the ravine below.Having at last got to the foot of the precipice, he found it somewhat easier to descend the rugged slope that inclined downwards from its base, and, upon reaching the bottom, he discovered that the track continued to lead onwards under the arched limbs of an overthrown pine, the smaller branches and spray of which, appeared, on a minute examination, to have been evidently broken away by frequent passage through underneath it. This circumstance he had some difficulty in discovering, as the increasing darkness was rendered deeper here, by the overhanging shade of the rocks and trees high above him. Bending beneath the boughs of the fir, he advanced with yet greater caution, and with some difficulty, over the rugged and angular fragments, until he suddenly observed something, that made it prudent for him to halt for a moment, that he might well consider his position. This abrupt stop was occasioned by hisobserving a faint gleam of light, that partially illumined the broad side, and moss-grown edge, of a large mass of stone, a little way in advance of the place where he then was. He hardly breathed, and he tried to listen—and, for a moment, he fancied he heard a murmur like that of human voices. Again he stretched his ear, and again he felt persuaded that he heard the sound of the voices coming hollow on his ear, as if from some cavity, somewhere below the surface, at a little distance beyond him. Resolving at last to proceed, he moved on gently, and upon a nearer approach to the great stone, on the broad edge of which the light fell, he found that it formed one side of a natural entrance to a passage, that led upwards under the enormous superincumbent masses, that had been piled up over it, in their fall from the shattered crags above. Pausing again for a moment, he drew himself up behind a projecting part of another huge stone, that formed the dark side of the entrance, that he might again listen. He was now certain that he distinctly heard voices proceeding from within, though he was not yet nearenough to the speakers to be able to make out their words. The smell of the wood smoke was exceedingly powerful, and his heart began to beat high, for he was now convinced that his adventure was drawing to a crisis.He plucked forth his dirk, and stooped to enter the place. He found the passage to be low, narrow, gently ascending, and running somewhat in an oblique direction, from the illuminated stone at the mouth, for a few paces inwards, till it met with another block of great size. The edges of this block glowed with a brighter light, that seemed to come directly upon it, at a right angle, from some fire, not then visible, but which was evidently blazing within, and which was again reflected from the side of this stone towards that of the stone at the entrance.Having crept onwards to this second fragment of rock, where the passage took its new direction, he discovered that it led into a large, and very irregularly-shaped chamber, which was within a few feet only of the spot which he had now reached, but he had no accurate means of judging of the full extent of the cavern. He couldnow see the rousing fire that was burning in a recess, in the side of the rocky wall of the place, the smoke from which seemed to find its way upwards, through some natural crevice immediately over it, for the interior of this subterranean den was by no means obscured by any great accumulation of it. By the light of the fire, one or two dark holes were seen, apparently forming low passages of connection with other chambers. How many living beings the place might then contain, he had no means of knowing or guessing. All that came within the field of his vision were two persons, which he supposed were those whose voices he had heard. One of these was a slim youth, who was employed in feeding the fire from time to time with pieces of rotten wood and branches, and in attending to a large pot, that hung over it by an iron chain, depending from a strong hook fastened in the rock above. But the youth and his occupations were altogether disregarded by Patrick Stewart, in the intense interest and delight which he experienced in beholding the Lady Catherine Forbes, the fair object of his toilsome search, who sat pensivelyand in tears, on a bundle of heather on the farther side of the fire.You will easily believe, gentlemen, that it was difficult for him to subdue his impatient feelings, so far as to restrain himself from at once rushing forward to snatch her to his arms. But prudence whispered him that her safety might depend on the caution he should use. Ignorant as he was of the extent of the subterranean den, or how it might be tenanted, he felt the necessity of exerting his self-command, and to remain quietly where he was for a little time, until he might be enabled to form some judgment, from what he should see and hear, as to the probable force he should have to contend with, as well as to determine what might be his best plan of action.“If thou wouldst but listen to my entreaty,” said Catherine Forbes, addressing the youth in an earnest tone of supplication, whilst the tears that ran down her cheeks roused Patrick’s feelings to an agonizing pitch of intensity—“If thou wouldst but fly with me, and take me toCurgarf, my father would give thee gold enough to enrich thee and thine for all thy life.”“I tell thee again that it is useless to talk of it, lady,” replied the youth. “I have already told thee that I pity thee, but it were more than my life were worth to do as thou wouldst have me. And what is gold, I pray thee, compared to such a risk?”“Methinks that, once out amidst these wide hills and forests, the risk would be but small indeed,” said Catherine.“That is all true,” replied the youth. “The hills and forests are wide; but the men of the band well know every nook and turn of them. Nay, they are every where, and come pop upon one at the very time when they are least looked for. Holy Virgin, an’ we were to meet any of them as we fled!—My head sits uneasily on my neck at the very thought!—By the Rood, but there would be a speedy divorce between them! and where would your gold be then, lady?”“Then let me go try to explore mine own way without thee,” said the Lady Catherine.“Talk not of it, lady,” replied the youth, impatiently. “My head would go for it, I tell thee.—It would go the moment they should return and find that thou hadst escaped. They may be already near at hand, too, if I mistake not the time of evening. Therefore, teaze me no more, I pray thee.”“Spirits of mine ancestors, give me strength and boldness!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up energetically, after a moment’s pause, during which she seemed to have taken her resolution, and assuming a commanding attitude and air as she spoke.—“Let me pass, young man!—give me way, I say!—or I will struggle with thee to the death, but I will force a passage!”“I have a sharp argument against that,” said the youth, drawing his dirk, and planting himself in the gap before her.—“Stand back!—or thou shalt have every inch of its blade.”“Out of the way, vermin!” cried Patrick Stewart, no longer able to contain his rage, and dashing down the youth before him as he entered.“Patrick!—my dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, flying into his arms with a scream of joy.“My dearest, dearest Catherine!” said Patrick, fondly—“this is indeed to be rewarded!—Wretch!” cried he, grappling the youth by the throat, and putting the point of his dirk to his breast, as he was in the act of rising from the ground, apparently with the intention of making his escape—“Wretch! our safety requires thy death.”“Oh, do not kill me, good Sir Knight!” cried the terrified youth piteously, and with a countenance as pale as a corpse.“Spare him!—spare him!” cried Catherine,—“his worthless life is unworthy of thy blade.”“Oh, mercy, mercy!” cried the youth again.—“Spare me!—spare me!—oh, do not kill me!”“If I did kill thee, it would be no more than what thou hast well merited,” said Patrick.—“But, as thou sayest, Catherine, my love, such worthless blood should never wantonly soil the steel of a brave man; and if I could but makehim secure by any other means, I should be better contented.”“Bind me, if thou wilt, Sir Knight; but, oh, do not!—do not kill me!” cried the youth.“Well then, I will spare thy life, though I half question the wisdom of so doing,” said Patrick.Casting his eyes around the cave, he espied some ropes lying in a dark corner. Catherine flew and brought them to him. He seized them, and quickly bound the youth neck and heel, in such a manner as to make it quite impossible for him to move body or limb, and then, lifting him in his arms, he groped his way with him into the farther end of one of those dark recesses that branched off from the main cavern, and there he deposited him.“Now, let us fly, my love!” cried he, hastily returning to the Lady Catherine. “Every moment we tarry here is fraught with danger.—Follow me quickly!—I grieve to think of the fatigue you must undergo. But cheer up, and trust for your defence, from all danger, to this good arm of mine. Above all things, be silent.”“With thee as my protector I am strong and bold,” said Catherine. “Thanks be to the Virgin for this deliverance!”Patrick now led the Lady Catherine forth into the open air. But before he ventured to proceed, he listened for a moment to ascertain that there was no one near. To his great horror, and to the lady’s death-like alarm, they distinctly heard a footstep slowly and cautiously approaching. Pushing Catherine gently behind the dark mass of stone at the entrance, he placed himself before her in the shadow, that, whilst concealed by it himself, he might have a perfect view of whosoever came, the moment the person should advance into the light, that was reflected on the wall-like side of the rocky mass opposite to him, and fell on the ground for a little space beyond it. He listened, with attention so breathless, that he seemed to hear every beat of his own heart, as well as of that of his trembling companion. The footstep was that of one person only, and he felt as if his resolution was quite equal to an encounter with a dozen; but he knewnot how many might be following, and he was fully conscious of the importance, as regarded the lady, of avoiding a conflict, unless rendered indispensable by circumstances. The step came on, falling gently, at intervals of several moments, as if the individual who approached was unwilling to make the least unnecessary noise. The dim figure of a man at length appeared, under the arched boughs of the fallen pine tree. He advanced, step by step, with increased caution. A dirk blade, which he held forward in his outstretched hand, first caught the stream of reflected light that came from the mouth of the cavern. The next step that the figure took brought his face under its influence; and, to the great relief of Patrick Stewart, displayed the features of Michael Forbes. Patrick gave a low whistle. Michael had at that moment stopped to listen, with a strange expression of dread and horror, to the complaints of the youth who was bound in the innermost recesses of the cavern, whence they came, reduced by its sinuosities, into a low wild moaning sound, that hadsomething supernatural in it, so as to be quite enough to appal any superstitious mind. The whistle startled him.“Michael!” said Patrick in a low tone of voice, “why did’st thou desert thy post?”“Holy virgin, is that you, Sir Knight?” said Michael, in a voice which seemed to convey a doubt whether he was not holding converse with a spirit.“What could make you desert your post?” demanded Patrick, angrily, and at the same time showing himself.“Holy saints, I am glad that it is really you, Sir Knight,” replied Michael. “I crave your pardon, but your long delay led me to fear that something had befallen you, and that you might lack mine aid.”“Had an accident befallen me, Michael,” said Patrick, “thine aid, I fear, would have been of little avail. But we have lost much time by this thy neglect of mine orders. Quick! let us lose no more, and give me thy best help to aid thy mistress, the Lady Catherine.”“The Virgin be praised!” exclaimed Michael, as Catherine appeared; “then the lady is safe!”“But so for only,” replied Patrick Stewart. “We have yet much peril to encounter; but our perils are increased every precious moment that we loiter here. Get thee on quickly before us to the top of the path where it quits the ravine,—the spot, I mean, where I left thee, and see that you be sure to give me good warning, shouldst thou see or hear any thing to cause alarm.”Michael obeyed; and Patrick, having led Catherine out from under the boughs of the fallen pine, began to assist her in ascending the path. He had some difficulty in dragging her up the wild-cat’s ladder that scaled the side of the cliff; but, by the assistance of his strongly nerved arm, she reached the summit without danger. She then forced her way through the narrow passage in the brushwood that grew over the top of the crags, until she had at length the satisfaction of being able to stand erect, to receive the cooling mountain breeze on her flushed cheek and throbbing temples. Butthis was no place for them to rest. Patrick whistled softly, and Michael appeared.“Catherine, my love,” said he, “this is no time for ceremony. Give one arm to Michael, and put the other firmly into mine—so. Now take the best care you can of your footing, and lean well upon me as we go down the mountain side. Oh, how I long to talk to thee! But, dearest, we must be silent as death, for we know not whom we may meet.”After a long, rough, and slippery descent, they came at length into a narrow glen, where the trees grew taller and farther apart from each other. This was so far fortunate for them; for as the shadows of night became deeper here than they had been on the mountain side, they were compelled to move slower; and it required all the care of the Lady Catherine’s supporters, to save her from the injuries she might have sustained from the numerous fallen branches, and other obstacles lying in their way.They had nearly reached the lower extremity of this lesser tributary glen, where it discharged a small rill into the wider glen and stream ofthe Aven, when Patrick Stewart suddenly halted.“Stop!” cried he; “I hear voices on the breeze, and they come this way too. We must up the bank, Michael. Courage, my dearest Catherine! let me help thee to climb. Trust me love, thou hast nothing to fear.”“I fear nothing whilst thou art by my side,” replied Catherine, exerting herself to the utmost.“Now,” said Patrick, after they had half carried her some thirty or forty paces up the steep slope; “we have time to go no farther. Hark! they come! Stretch thyself at length among this long heather, Catherine, and let me throw my plaid over thee. Nay, now I think on’t, Michael’s green one is better, the red of mine might be more visible. There; that will do. Now, Michael, draw thy good claymore, as I do mine. Here are two thick trunks which stand well placed in front of us. Do thou take thy stand behind that one, whilst I post myself behind this, so that both of us may be between the lady and danger. They cannot come at her but by passing between us. Andif they do! But see that thou dost not strike till I give thee the word. Hush! they come!”They had hardly thus disposed of themselves, when the voices drew nearer, and the dusky figures were obscurely seen moving up the bottom of the little glen. They came loitering on, one after another, in what we of the army used to call Indian files,—man following man along the track, where they knew that the footing was likely to be the best. This plan of march necessarily made them longer of passing by, but it relieved those who were lurking in the bank above from any great fear of being discovered by any stray straggler. Two individuals of the party, who had probably some sort of command over the rest, were considerably in advance. These lingered on their way, and halted more than once to give time for those that followed to come up, so that Patrick Stewart caught a sentence or two of the conversation that fell from them.“He must be as cunning as the devil,” said one of them to the other, in Gaelic.“Thou knowest that she has not yet seenhis face,” replied the other; “so that, when he comes to act the part of her deliverer, she will never suspect that it was to him she was indebted for her unwilling travel last night, and her present confinement. And then, you see, he thinks, in this way, to make his own, both of her and her old father, by his pretended gallantry in rescuing her from——”Patrick Stewart in vain stretched his ears to catch more, for on came the rest in closer lines, gabbling together so loudly about trifles, and with voices so commingled, that it was not possible to gather the least sense out of their talk. These all passed onwards; and, a little way behind them, came four other men, who walked very slowly, and stopped occasionally to converse in Gaelic, like people, who were so travel-worn, that they were not sorry to halt now and then, and to rest against a tree for a few moments.“What made Grigor Beg stop behind Allister?” demanded one.“Hoo! you may well guess it was nothing but his old trick,” replied the other. “The boddoch would have fain had me to tarry forhim, that I might help him, by carrying a part of what load he might get. But I was no such fool. My shoulders ache enough already with carrying the rough rungs of that accursed litter last night, to let me wish for any new burden.”“If thou hadst not been carrying the bonny lassie for another’s pleasure, methinks you would maybe have thought less of it,” said a third man.Whilst attentively listening to this dialogue, Patrick Stewart observed some ill-defined object, coming stealing up the slope of the bank, in a diagonal line, from the place a little way down the glen, where the four men had halted. It came on noiselessly, but steadily pointing towards the spot where Catherine lay. It stopped, and uttered a short bark, and Patrick now saw that it was a large, rough, Highland wolf-dog. Again, with its long snout directed towards the plaid that covered Catherine, it barked and snarled.“Dermot, boy!—Dermot!”—cried one of the men from the hollow below.—“What hast thou got there?”As if encouraged by its master’s voice, the animal barked and snarled again yet more eagerly, and seemed to be on the very eve of springing upon the plaid. The blade of Patrick Stewart’s claymore made one swift circuit in the air, and, descending like a flash of lightning on the neck of the creature, his head and his body rolled asunder into different parts of the heather, and again Patrick took his silent but determined stand behind the tree.“Dermot!—Dermot, boy!”—cried the man again from below.—“What think ye is the beast at, lads?”“Some foulmart or badger it may be,” replied another.“Can’st thou not go up and see, man?” said a third.“Go thyself, my good man,” said the dog’s master.—“I am fond enough of the dog—aye, and, for that part, I am fond enough of travel too, but I am content with my share of fagg for this day without going up the brae there to seek for more. A man may e’en have his serving of the best haggis that ever came out of a pot.Trust me, I am for going no foot to-night beyond what I can help.—Dermot—Dermot, boy!—See ye any thing of him at all, lads?”“The last sight that I had of him at all, was near yon dark looking hillock, a good way up the bank yonder,” said another man.“I’m thinking that the brute has winded a passing roebuck,” said the fourth man, “I thought I saw something like a glimmer just against the light cloud yonder above, as if it had been the dog darting over the height, the very moment after the last bark he gave.”“Dermot! whif-hoo-if!” cried the dog’s master, and, at the same time, whistling shrilly upon his fingers. “Tut! the fiend catch him for me! let him go! I’ll be bound that he’ll be home before us.”“Come, then, let’s on!” said another, “I wonder much that Grigor Beg hath not come up with us ere this.”“Hulloah, Grigor!” shouted one of them. “No, no, we’ll not see him so soon, I’ll warrant ye.”“Come! come away, lads!” said another,moving on with the rest following him. “I’ll be bound that the boddoch hath got a swingeing load upon his back.”“Awell!” said one of the first speakers, “rather him than me. But we shan’t be the worse of it when it’s well broiled, for all that. I’m sure I wish I had a bit of it at this moment, for I’m famishing. I’m dead tired to-night; I hope that we may have some rest to-morrow. Know ye aught that is to do?”“I heard the Captain say that”——but the rest of the dialogue was cut off by the distance which the men had by this time reached.“Thanks be to St. Peter, they are gone at last!” said Patrick Stewart. “How my fingers itched to have a cut at the villains.—Catherine,” continued he, lifting the plaid, and assisting her to rise, “art thou not half dead with terror? But courage, my love. There lies the murderous four-footed savage, whose fell fangs had so nearly been busied with the plaid that covered thee. If we may trust to what we have just heard, there is but one manto come; and, judging by the name of Beg1which they gave him, he ought to be no very formidable person. Michael, get thee on a few steps in front, and keep a good look out for him. Were we but out of this narrow place, and fairly into the wider glen of the Aven, we should have less to fear, and then we shall find means to carry thee.”“Thanks to the Virgin, I am yet strong,” said Catherine. “Let us fly, then, with all speed.”A farther walk, of a few minutes only, brought them into Glen Aven, and they pursued its downward course, for a considerable length of way, until Patrick Stewart began to perceive something like fatigue in the Lady Catherine’s step. He therefore halted, and made her sit down to rest a while. In the mean time, he and Michael Forbes contrived to hew down two small sapling fir trees, by the aid of their good claymores, and having tied their plaids between them,they, in this manner, very speedily constructed a tolerably easy litter for the lady to recline at length in. This they carried between them, by resting the ends of the poles upon their shoulders, Patrick making Michael Forbes go foremost, and reserving the place behind for himself. I need hardly tell you that the Stewart especially selected that position, for the obvious reason that he might be thereby enabled to cheer the Lady Catherine’s spirits, and to lighten her fatigues, by now and then addressing a word or two of comfort to her as they went. In this manner they pursued their way down the glen, until the loud roar of many waters informed them that they were approaching the grand waterfall, called the Lynn of Aven. You will have ample opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with all the details of this fine scene, gentlemen, as you go up the glen to-morrow. But in the meanwhile, I may tell you generally, that the whole of this large river, there precipitates itself headlong, through a comparatively narrow chasm in the rocks, into a long, wide, and extremely deep pool below.The sound increased as the bearers of the litter drew nearer to the waterfall, and the rocky and confined passage, over which they had to make their way, compelled them to walk at greater leisure, and to select their footing with more caution. Fortunately they had now the advantage of the moon, which had been for some time shining favourably upon them, and they were already within a very few steps of coming immediately over the waterfall, when they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful and most unearthly shriek. It came apparently from the very midst of the descending column of water below them.“Holy Virgin Mother!” cried Michael Forbes, halting, and backing like a restive horse, so unexpectedly, that the ends of the poles were nearly jerked from Patrick Stewart’s shoulders, by the shock which was thus communicated to them. “Holy Mother, didst thou not hear that, Sir Knight?”“I did hear something,” said Stewart, not quite willing to increase that dread which he perceived was already quite sufficiently excitedin his companion, and of which he could not altogether divest himself. “I did fancy that I heard something. But for the love of the Virgin take care what thou dost. Thou hadst almost shaken the poles from my shoulders by thy sudden start.—Come! proceed man!”Again, a louder, and more appalling shriek arose from the midst of the cataract, piercing their ears above all the roaring of its thunder.“For the love of all the saints, let us turn back, Sir Knight!” cried Michael. “It is the water-kelpie himself!”“Nay,” said Patrick Stewart; “back we may not go, without the risk of falling again into the very jaws of the Catteranes. They are no doubt hard on foot after us by this time.—Forward then, and fear not!”Again came the wild shriek, if possible louder and more terrible than before.“For the love of God, Sir Knight, back!” cried Michael, now losing all command of himself, and forcing the litter so backwards upon Patrick Stewart, as to compel him, from the narrowness of the rocky shelf where they thenstood, to retreat in a corresponding degree, to avoid the certain alternative of being precipitated over the giddy ledge into the boiling stream of the Aven. “For the love of God, back, I say! were it but for a few paces, till we have leisure to lay down our burden, and cross ourselves.”“Merciful saints! what will become of us?” cried the Lady Catherine, in great alarm.“Now,” said Patrick Stewart, after yielding a few steps, “now, we may surely halt here till thy courage return to thee, Michael. What a fiend hath so unmanned thee to-night? I thought thou hadst been brave as a lion.”“A fiend indeed, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, as they were laying down the litter; “I trust that I lack not courage, at any time, to face any mortal foe that ever came before me. But,” added he, eagerly crossing himself, “to meet with the devil thus in one’s very path!—Good angels be about us, heard ye not that scream again? Have mercy upon us all!”“There is something very strange in this,” said Patrick Stewart. “But this will neverdo. We cannot tarry here long without the certainty of being overtaken by the whole body of the Catteranes. By this time they must be well on their way in pursuit of us.”“Holy Virgin! what will become of us if we should fall into their hands?” cried the Lady Catherine, in an agony of distress.“Fear not, my love!” said Patrick Stewart; “I will forthwith fathom this mystery. I will see whence these horrible screams proceed.”“Nay, Sir Patrick, tempt not thy fate,” cried Michael. “If thou dost, thou goest to thy certain destruction.”“Oh stir not, dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up from the litter, and endeavouring to detain him. “Do not attempt so great, so dreadful a danger.”“Catherine, my dearest!” said Patrick, fondly taking her hands in his; “listen to reason, I entreat thee. The danger that presses on us from behind is imminent, and more than what two swords, good as they may be, could by any means save thee from. And since God hath given us strength to flee from it, he willnot forsake me in a conflict with the powers of hell, should they stand in my way. I go forward in his holy name, then; have no fear for me therefore. Rest thine arm upon Michael, dearest—tell thy beads, and may the blessed Virgin hover over thee to protect thee! As for you, Michael, draw your claymore, and stir not a step from the lady till I call thee.”Patrick Stewart now crossed himself, and then strode, slowly and resolutely, along the narrow ledge of rock towards the roaring lynn, repeating a paternoster as he went. The moon was by this time high in the heavens, and its beams produced a faint tinge of the rainbow’s hues, as they played among the mists that arose from the waterfall. The shrieks that came from below were now loud and incessant, and might have quailed the stoutest heart. But still Patrick advanced firmly, till he stood upon a shelving rock, forming the very verge of the roaring cataract, whence he could throw his eyes directly downwards, through the shooting foam, into the abyss below. Far down, in the midst of the rising vapour, and apparently suspendedin it, close by the edge of the descending column of water, he could distinguish a dark object. New and more piercing screams arose from it. He bent forward, and looked yet more intently. To his no inconsiderable dismay, he beheld a fearful head rear itself, as it were from out of it; the long hair by which it was covered, and the immense beard that flowed from the chin, hanging down, drenched by the surrounding moisture, and the eyes glaring fearfully in the moonlight, whilst the terrific screams were inconceivably augmented. Appalled as he was by this most unaccountable apparition, Patrick was shifting his position, in order to lean yet more forward, that he might the better contemplate it, when the toe of his sandal grazed against something that had nearly destroyed his equilibrium, and sent him headlong over the rock. Having, with some difficulty, recovered himself, he stooped down to ascertain what had tripped him, when he found, to his surprise, that it was a rope. He now remembered, that the feudal tenant of the neighbouring ground, who owed service to hisfather, Sir Allan, was accustomed to hang a conical creel, or large rude basket, by the edge of the fall, for the purpose of catching the salmon that fell into it, after failing in their vain attempts to leap up.“Ho, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, in that voice of thunder, which he required to exert in order to overcome the continuous roar of the cataract.“Oh, help! help! help!” cried the fearful head from below.“Man or demon, I will see what thou art!” cried Patrick, stooping down to lay hold of the rope, with the intention of making an attempt to pull up the creel.“For the love of Saint Andrew, lay not a hand on the rope, Sir Knight, as thou may’st value thy life!” said Michael Forbes, who, having heard Patrick’s loud shout, had been hurried off to his aid by the fears and the commands of the Lady Catherine.“Why hast thou left the lady, caitiff?” demanded Patrick Stewart, angrily. “Did I not tell thee to stay with her till I should call thee?”“We heard thee call loudly, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, trembling more from his proximity to the place whence the screams had issued, than from any thing that Patrick had said.“True, I had forgotten,” replied Patrick; “I did call, though not on thee. But since thou art here, come lend me thy hand to pull up the basket.”“Nay, Sir Knight; surely thou art demented by devilish influence. For the love of all the saints!” cried Michael, quaking from head to foot; “for the love of ——”“Dastard, obey my command, or I will hurl thee over the rock!” cried Patrick furiously, and with a manner that showed Michael that it was time to obey. “Now, pull—pull steadily and firmly; pull away, I say!”“Have mercy on us! have mercy on our souls!” cried Michael, pulling most unwillingly.“What a fiend are you afraid of? Why don’t you pull, I say?” cried the Knight again.“Jesu Maria protect me! that I should have a hand in any such work!” muttered Michael. “Oh holy Virgin! to have thus to deal with the Devil himself!”“Come! pull!—pull away, I tell ye—pull! aye, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, as the basket at last came to the top of the rock.“Preserve us all!” cried Michael; “the water-kelpie, sure enough! Mercy on us, what a fearful red beard! what terrible fiery eyes! For the love of heaven, Sir Knight, let him down again!”“Coward!” cried Patrick, “if you let go the rope, I’ll massacre thee! Now, do you hear? pull the creel well out this way.—Ha, that will do!—Now I think it is safe.”“Oh, may the blessed saints reward thee!” said a little shred of a man, who now arose, shaking in a palsy of cold and wet, from the midst of at least a dozen large salmon, with which the creel was heaped up; “Thou hast saved me from the most dreadful of deaths.”“How camest thou there?” demanded Patrick Stewart; “answer quickly, for we are in haste.”“Oh, I know not well how I got there,” said the little man, shivering so that he could hardly speak. “I stept aside from the path, just totake a look down to see if there were any salmon in the creel, when something took my foot, and over I went. Oh, what a providence it was that ye came by! Another hour, and I must have been dead from cold and wet, and buried in salmon, for they were flying in upon me like so many swallows. I thought they would have choked me.”“Here,” said Patrick Stewart, taking out a flask, “take a sup of this cordial; it will speedily restore thee.”“Oh, blessings on thee, Sir Knight!” said the little man; “I will drink thy health with good will. But tell me thy name, I pray thee, that I may know, and never forget, who it was that saved my life.”“I am Patrick Stewart of Clan-Allan,” replied the knight carelessly. “Come now, Michael, we must tarry here no longer.”“Sure I am that I shall never forget the name of Sir Patrick Stewart,” said the little man, whilst he was following them along the narrow path, as they retraced it towards the place where they had left the Lady Catherine; “and ifever I can do thee a good turn I shall do it, though it were by the sacrifice of my life.”Catherine’s fears were soon allayed by the explanation that was given her. She was again put into the litter, which was quickly shouldered by her protectors, the little man lending them a willing helping hand; and Patrick and Michael proceeded on their way, whilst the half-drowned wretch went up the glen, pouring out blessings upon them. Without fear or interruption they now passed by the spot which had occasioned them so much dread and delay, and they soon left the roar of the lynn behind them, and at length reached the ravine of Cuachan Searceag, where, much to their relief, they found the whole of the party anxiously waiting for them. When the Forbeses beheld Patrick Stewart, and, above all, when they beheld their young mistress, the daughter of their Chief, safe and well among them, they rent the air with shouts of joy that made the whole glen ring again.“Aye,” said Patrick Stewart, as they sat down to rest a little while, and to take some hasty refreshment, “We may now make whatnoise we list, for, if the whole gang of these accursed Catteranes should come upon us, we have brave hearts and keen claymores enow to meet them. But, for all that, we have too precious a charge with us to tarry for the mere pleasure of a conflict; so be stirring my men, and let us breast the hill as fast as may be.”You may all well enough guess, gentlemen, how Patrick Stewart was received by the old Lord of Curgarf when he entered his hall, leading in his fair daughter safe and sound. The joy of the father was not the less, that his son, Arthur the Master of Forbes, had returned but a brief space of time before, jaded, dispirited, and sorrowful, from his long, tiresome, and fruitless expedition. Worn with anxiety, the old man had counted watch after watch of the night, and the day and the night again, until his son’s arrival, and then he had sunk into the most overwhelming despair. After pouring forth thanks to Heaven, and to all the saints, he now gave way to his joy. The midnight feast was spread, and all was revelry and gladness in the castle. Patrick Stewart was now viewed by him as his guardian angel. Seeing this, Arthur Forbestook an opportunity of advising his friend to profit by the happy circumstance which had now placed him so high in his father’s good opinion. He did so—and the result was, that he obtained the willing consent of the old Lord of Curgarf to his union with his daughter, the Lady Catherine, with the promise of a tocher which should be worthy of her.The happiness of the lovers was now complete, and the next day was spent in open and unrestrained converse between them. The time was fixed for the wedding, and then it was, after all these arrangements had been made, that Patrick Stewart first had leisure fully torecallto mind, all those afflicting circumstances which had taken place when he last saw his brother Walter. He thought of his father—he felt the necessity of going immediately home, to relieve any anxiety which his father, Sir Allan, might have, in consequence of his unexplained absence, as well as to make him acquainted with his approaching marriage. He accordingly took a tender leave of his fair bride that evening, and, starting next morning, he made his way over the hills to Drummin.Patrick Stewart was already within sight of home, when his attention was arrested by the blast of a bugle, which rang shrilly from the hill above him. It conveyed to him that private signal which was always used between his brother Walter and himself. For the first time in his life it grated harshly in his ear, for it immediately brought back to his recollection those oppressively painful circumstances which had occurred at Dalestie, which he had so studiously endeavoured to banish from his memory. But the strong tide of brotherly affection within him was too resistless not to sweep away every feeling connected with the past. He applied his bugle to his lips, and returned the call; and, looking up the side of the hill, he beheld Walter, and a party of the Clan-Allan, hastening down through the scattered greenwood to meet him.“Thanks be to Heaven and good Saint Hubert that I see thee safe, my dearest Patrick,” said Sir Walter, hurrying towards him, and warmly embracing him. “Hast thou forgiven a brother’s anger and unkindness?”“Could’st thou believe that I could for a moment remember it, my dear Walter?” replied Patrick, returning his embrace.“Where in the name of wonder hast thou been wandering?” demanded Sir Walter. “Wherehast thou been since that night—that night of justice, yet of horror—when you disappeared so mysteriously? Since that moment, when I returned home and found thee not, I have done little else, night or day, but travel about hither and thither, anxiously seeking for tidings of thee.”“Let us walk apart,” said Patrick in his ear, “and I will tell thee all that has befallen me.”“Willingly,” said Sir Walter in the same tone; “for, in exculpation of myself, I would now fain pour into thy private ear all those circumstances which secretly urged me to execute that stern act of justice and necessity, which then thou could’st not comprehend, and against which thy recoiling humanity did naturally enough compel thee so urgently to protest.”Arm in arm the two brothers then walked onalone, at such a distance before their clansmen as might insure the perfect privacy of their talk, and long ere they reached Drummin, they had fully communicated to each other all that they had mutually to impart. Old Sir Allan had been querulous and impatient about Patrick’s absence, and he had been every now and then peevishly inquiring about him. But now that his son appeared, he seemed to have forgotten that he had not been always with him. He was pleased and proud when the contemplated marriage was communicated to him, and he enjoined Sir Walter to see to it, that every thing handsome should be done on the occasion. In this respect, Sir Walter’s generosity required no stimulus; and if Patrick was dissatisfied at all, it was with the over liberality which his brother manifested, which, in some particulars, he felt inclined to resist.“Patrick,” said Sir Walter aside to his brother, with a more than ordinarily serious air, “I give thee but thine own in advance. One day or other it will be all thine own. There is something within me that tells me that I am notlong for this world. The last words of that wretch, delivered to me, as I told thee, from the midst of those flames that consumed him, were prophetic. But, be that as it may, I have never had thoughts of marrying, and now I am firmly resolved that I never shall marry, so that thou art the sole prop of our house.”The entrance of the retainers, and the spreading of the evening meal, put a stop to all farther conversation between the brothers. Patrick had not yet seen either the Lady Stradawn, or her son Murdoch. On inquiry, he was told that Murdoch had gone on some unknown expedition on the previous day, and that he had not yet returned. A circumstance, so common with him, excited no surprise. As for the Lady Stradawn, she now came swimming into the hall, with her countenance clothed in all its usual smiles. Her salutation to her stepsons was full of well-dissembled warmth and affection. She hastened, with her wonted affectation of fondness, to bustle about Sir Allan, with the well-feigned pretence of anxiety to attend to his wants, after which she took her place at the head of the board. It wasthen that Patrick’s eyes became suddenly fixed upon her with a degree of astonishment, which, fortunately for him, the busy occupation of every one else at the table left them no leisure to observe. To his utter amazement, he beheld in her bosom that very garnet brooch which he had given to Catherine Forbes! His first impulse was to demand from her an explanation of the circumstances by which she had become possessed of it; but a little reflection soon enabled him to control his feelings, though he continued to sit gazing at the well-known jewel, altogether forgetful of the feast, until the lady arose to retire to her chamber.“My dearest Sir Allan,” said she, going up to the old knight’s chair to bestow her caresses on him ere she went; “My dearest Sir Allan, thou hast eaten nothing for these two days. What can I get for thee that may tickle thy palate into thy wonted appetite? Said’st thou not something of a deer’s heart, for which thou hadst a longing? ’Tis a strange fancy, I’m sure.”“Oh, aye! very true,—a deer’s heart!” said the doting old man. “Very true, indeed, my love. I did dream—oh, aye—I dreamed, I say, Bella, that I was eating the rosten heart of a stag—of a greathart of sixteen,2killed by my boys on the hill of Dalestie—aye, aye—and with arrows feathered from an eagle’s wing. As I ate, and better ate, I always grew stronger and stronger, till at length I was able to rise from my chair as stoutly as ever I did in my life—ouch, aye! that day is gone! Yet much would I like to eat the rosten heart of a deer; but it would need to be that of a great hart of sixteen.”“My dear father, thou shalt not want that,” said Sir Walter; “thou shalt have it ere I am a day older, if a hart of sixteen be to be found between this and Loch Aven.”“Aye, aye, Walter boy, as thou sayest,” said the old man; “a great hart of sixteen—else hath the heart of the beast no potency in’t—aye, and killed with an arrow feathered from an eagle’s wing—och, aye—hoch-hey!”Though the two brothers were satisfied that this was nothing but the drivelling of age, they were not the less anxiously desirous to gratify their father’s wish to the very letter. Accordingly, the necessary orders were given, and the trusty Dugald Roy3was forthwith summoned to prepare six arrows, which would have been easily supplied, with the small portions of feather which were necessary for them, from the eagle wing in Sir Walter’s bonnet. But Sir Allan stopped him as he was about to tear it off.“What, Sir!” exclaimed the old man testily, and in a state of agitation that shook every fibre of his frame like a palsy;—“What! wouldst thou shear the eagle plume of my boy Walter, thou ill-omened bird that thou art? Yonder hangs mine; it can never more appear bearing proudly forward in the foremost shock of the battle-field. Och, hey, that is true! Take that, thou raven! Thou may’st rend it as ye list. But, my boy’s!—the proud plume of mine eldest born boy!—thou shalt never take that!”“I crave your pardon, Sir Knight,” replied Dugald Roy; “and now I think on’t, I need not take either, for I have some spare wing feathers in my store that will do all the turn.”The next morning saw Sir Walter and his brother Patrick early on foot, dressed in their plainest hunting attire, stretching up the valley at the head of their attendants. Each of the brothers had three of the eagle-winged arrows stuck into his belt; for, as both were dexterous marksmen, and as they had resolved to use their shafts against nothing else but a great hart of sixteen, they felt themselves to be thus most amply provided to insure success. Fortune was somewhat adverse to them, however; for although they saw deer in abundance, they found themselves in this very part of the valley, when the day was already far spent, without having once had a chance of effecting their object.“Look ye there, brother Walter!” at length cried Patrick Stewart suddenly, as he pointed to a hart with a magnificent head, which was crossingto this side of the river, at the ford you see above yonder. “Look ye there brother! there he goes at last!”“By the rood, but that is the very fellow we want,” replied Sir Walter. “Watch him! See!—he takes the hill aslant. He will not go far, if we may judge from his present pace.”“I saw him walk over that open knoll in the wood high up yonder,” said Patrick, after some minutes of pause. “He has no mind to go farther than the dip of the hill above. I think that we are sure of finding him there. What say you brother?”“Thou art right, Patrick,” said Walter. “Then do thou run on, and take the long hollow in the hill-side, beyond the big pine tree yonder. I will follow up the slack behind us here. Let your sweep be wide, that we may be sure of stalking well in beyond him, so that, if we fail of getting proper vantage of him, we may be sure that we drive him not farther a-field. Let us take no sleuth-hound, nor bratchet neither, lest, perchance, we cause himalarm. You, my merry men, will tarry here for us with the dogs.”Off went the two brothers, each in his own direction, and each with his bow in his hand, and his three arrows in his belt. In obedience to Sir Walter’s directions, Patrick hurried away to the great pine tree, and then began his ascent through the long hollow in the woody mountain’s side with all manner of expedition. After a long and fatiguing climb, he began to use less speed and more caution, as he approached nearer to the somewhat less steep ground, where his hopes lay. Then it was that he commenced making a long sweep around, stealing silently from tree to tree, and concealing himself, as much as he could, by keeping their thick trunks before him, and creeping along among the heather, where such a precaution was necessary. Having completed his sweep to such an extent as led him to believe that he had certainly got beyond the hart, he was about to creep down the hill, in the hope of soon coming upon him, when he chanced toobserve a great uprooted pine, which lay prostrated a little way farther on, and somewhat above the spot where he then was, its head rising above the heather like a great green hillock. Thinking that he might as well have one peep beyond it before he turned downwards, and wishing to avail himself of its shade to mask his motions, he took a direct course towards it. But it so happened, that the hart had found it equally convenient for the same purpose, as well as for a place of outlook, for it had taken post close to it, on the farther side. Descrying Patrick Stewart through an accidental opening in the foliage, and having no fancy to hold nearer converse with him, the creature moved slowly away. His quick and practised eye caught a view of it through the opening, as it was going away up the hill, as it happened, in a direct line. Well experienced in woodcraft, he, in a loud voice, called out “hah!” As is common with red deer when in the woods, the hart made a sudden halt, and wheeled half round to listen, and in this way he placed his broadside to the hunter’s eye. This was butfor an instant, to be sure; but in that instant Patrick Stewart’s arrow, passing through the break in the foliage of the pine, fixed itself deep into the shoulder of the hart.“Clumsily done!” exclaimed Patrick Stewart from very vexation as he saw the hart bound off. “I’ll warrant me the arrow-head is deep into his shoulder blade. One single finger’s breadth more behind it would have made him mine own, and with all the cleverness of perfect woodcraft.”Patrick, baulked and disappointed, now extended his sweep, and crossed and re-crossed the ground, with the hope of meeting his brother Sir Walter; but as he did not succeed in falling in with him, he followed the track of the hart for some distance up the hill, until he lost every trace of his slot upon the dry summit, after which he returned with all manner of haste to make his way downwards to the party in the valley below. This he did, partly with the expectation of meeting his brother Sir Walter there, and partly with the intention of getting the dogs, that he might make an attempt to recoverhis wounded hart. There he found—not his brother Sir Walter—but his brother Murdoch—who stood exulting over a dead stag. He was a great hart of sixteen, just such an one as he himself had been after.“Thou see’st that I have the luck,” said Murdoch Stewart triumphantly.“Whence camest thou, Murdoch? and how comes this?” demanded Patrick.“All naturally enough, brother,” replied Murdoch Stewart carelessly. “As I was wandering idly on the hill-side above there, I espied the people here below, so I came sauntering down to see what they were about, and to hear news of ye all. But, as my luck would have it, I had hardly been with them the pattering of a paternoster, when the very hart that thou wentest after came bang down upon me—my shaft fled—and there he lies. Mark now, brother, is he not well and cleanly killed? Observe—right through the neck you see. But, ha!—it would seem that thou hast spent an arrow too—for these fellows tell me that thou tookest threewith thee, and methinks thou hast but twain left in thy belt.”“I used one against the hart I went after,” said Patrick coldly.“And missed him, brother—is’t not so?” said Murdoch laughing. “Well, I never hoped that I should live to wipe thine eye in any such fashion; for these varlets all say that this is the very hart that thou went’st after.”“Nay, then,” replied Patrick with an air of indifference; “if this be the hart I went after, I must have found another great hart of sixteen the very marrow of him; and him I have so marked, that I’ll be sworn he will be known again; for I promise you that at this moment he beareth wood on his shoulder as well as on his head.”“The hart thou sayest that thou sawest may be like Saint Hubert’s stag for aught I know,” said Murdoch; “but it is clear, from all that these fellows say, that there lies the very hart that thou went’st forth to kill, and that is no arrow of thine that hath fixed itself in his gullet.”“I did see a hart—draw my bow at a hart—and sorely wound a hart,” said Patrick, rather testily; “and were it not that the scent is cold, and the hour so late, I think that the sleuth-hounds there, would soon help me to prove to thee that he is as fine a hart of sixteen as this which thou hast slain.”“Cry your mercy, brother,” said Murdoch; “I knew not that such great harts of sixteen had been so rife hereabouts, as that one should start up as a butt for thine arrow the moment that the other had been lost to thee. Yet it is clear that thou hast spent an arrow upon something.—Ha!—by the way—where is our brother Walter? They tell me that he went up the hill-side with thee.”“After seeking for him on the hill-side in vain, I reckoned on finding him here,” replied Patrick. “But if he be within a mile of us I’ll make him answer.”He put his bugle to his lips, and awakened the echoes, with such sounds as were understood between Sir Walter and himself; but the echoes alone replied to him.“He may have met with a deer which mayhave led him off in pursuit over the hill,” said Patrick.“Aye,” said Murdoch; “he may have fallen in with your hart of sixteen—yea, or another, for aught I know, seeing that harts of sixteen are now so rife on these hills.”“Fall in with what he might, he is not the man to give up his game easily,” said Patrick, somewhat keenly.“Whatever may have befallen him,” said Murdoch, “we can hardly hope to see him hereabouts to-night.”“I hope we may see him at Drummin,” said Patrick; “for as the night is now drooping down so fast, he will most readily seek the straightest way thither. So, as thou hast now made sure of a great hart of sixteen for Sir Allan, we may as well turn our steps thitherward without more delay.”On reaching Drummin, Patrick Stewart’s first inquiry was for his brother Sir Walter. He had not returned home; but it was yet early in the night, and he might have been led away to such a distance as to require the greater part ofthe night to bring him home. The hart was borne up to the hall in triumph, and exhibited before Sir Allan, with the arrow still sticking in his neck. The old man’s countenance was filled with joy and exultation when he beheld it. The Lady Stradawn could not contain her triumph.“So, Murdoch,” said she, “thou art the lucky man who hath killed the much longed for venison! Thou art the lucky man who hath brought thy father the food for which his soul so yearneth! There is something of good omen for thee in this, my boy!”“A noble head!—a great hart of sixteen, indeed,” said Sir Allan. “Aye, aye, that is a head, that is a head indeed! Yet have I slain many as fine in my time. Aye, aye,—but those days are gone; och, hey! gone indeed. See what a cuach his horn hath. Yet that which I slew up at Loch Aven had a bigger cuach than this one by a great deal. As I live, you might have slaked your thirst from the hollow of it the drowthiest day you ever saw. Yet this is a good hart—a noble hart of sixteen,—aye, aye! hoch-hey! But, hey! what’s this? A goose-winged shaft?Did I not tell ye that my dream spake of an eagle’s wing? His heart will be naught after all—naught, naught—och, hey! och, hey!”

With a view of multiplying the chances which might still remain of effecting the anxious object of his expedition, Patrick Stewart had no sooner started again from the heather where they had been seated, than he subdivided his party into several sections, under certain intelligent leaders, and having given to each of them such instructions as he deemed necessary for their guidance, he sent them off in different directions, with orders to meet together again, by nightfall, at the ravine of Cuachan-Seirceag. There they were all to wait till he should join them, unless in the event of the Lady Catherinebeing recovered by any of them, in which case they were to proceed in a body, without tarrying, to carry her straight to Curgarf, leaving one of their number behind them to certify him of the agreeable intelligence. For his own part, he took with him a single attendant only, one of the Curgarf retainers, called Michael Forbes, with whose superior sagacity and activity, some former circumstances had led him to be more particularly acquainted.After all the others had left them, Patrick and his companion began a most particular and persevering search through the forest, and among the mountains, of that part of the country which he had especially marked out and reserved for himself, leaving no spot unexplored that had any thing the least suspicious connected with it. But the wilderness through which they wandered was so wide, and, in many places, so very thickly wooded, that they might have been employed for days in the same way, without his being one whit nearer his object. It is not wonderful, then, that the evening began to manifest its approach, whilst he wasyet actively engaged in laborious travel, yet still he bore on with unremitting exertion, altogether unconscious of the wane of day.The wild scenery by which he was surrounded was beginning to grow dim in the increasing obscurity, when he arrived at the edge of a deep corry or ravine, in the steeply inclined side of a mountain. It was a place, of the existence of which, neither he nor his companion had ever been aware, well as they were both acquainted with the mountains. The precise position of it has been long ago forgotten; and indeed, if it could be guessed at, it is probably now so altered, and blocked up, by the fall of the mountain masses from time to time, as to be no longer in such a state as might admit of its being identified. But it was one of those rugged places of which there are plenty of examples among these mountains. The elevation on the mountain side was not greater than to have allowed Nature, at that time, to have carried the forest partially up around it, and the wood, that in a great measure concealed it, was chiefly composed of the mountain pine. The trees,which were seen struggling against the wintry tempests that prevailed around the summits of the cliffs above, appeared twisted and stunted, yet they grew thickly and sturdily together, as if resolved, like bold Highlanders in possession of a dangerous post, to put shoulder to shoulder for the determined purpose of maintaining their position, in defiance of the raging elements. Their foliage was shorn, not thinned by the blast. On the contrary, it was thickened by it, from that very clipping to which the storms so continually subjected it, so that the shade which was formed by their tops overhead, was thereby rendered just so much the more dense and impenetrable. The narrow and inclined bottom of the immense gully below, was composed of enormous fragments, which had been wedged out by time and frosts from the faces of the overhanging crags, and piled one over the other to an unknown depth, whilst the ground, that sloped rapidly down into it, from the lower part of the abrupt faces of the precipices on either side, was covered with smaller and lighter materials of the same sort, mingled with a certainproportion of soil. There some scattered trees had been enabled to grow to a huge size, from the uninterrupted shelter which the place afforded; but whilst few of these had altogether escaped injury and mutilation from the frequent descent of the stony masses, many of them had been entirely uprooted and overturned, by the immense magnitude of some of those falling rocks which had swept down upon them, and there lay their enormous trunks, resting upon their larger limbs, or upon one another, the whole being tossed and tumbled together in most intricate confusion, so as to cover the rocky fragments beneath them, with one continued and almost impervious naturalchevaux-de-frize.Patrick Stewart halted behind the bole of a tree, and, resting against it, so as to enable him to lean forward over the precipice, he surveyed the gulf below, as accurately as the evening twilight, and the intervening obstacles permitted him to do. He and Michael Forbes then stole slowly and silently along the very verge of it, in that direction that lay down the mountain side, using their eyes sharply andearnestly as they went, and peering anxiously everywhere, with the hope of discovering some track which might tend downwards into the ravine. While so occupied, Patrick became suddenly sensible of the fresh smell of wood smoke. From the manner in which it was necessarily diffused, by the multiplied network of boughs through which it had to ascend, he looked for it in vain for some time, till he accidentally observed one or two bright fiery sparks mount upwards from below, such as may be often seen to arise from a cottage chimney top, when new fuel has been thrown upon the fire by the people within. Marking, with great attention, the spot whence these had proceeded, he commenced a more narrow examination of the edge of the ravine, until he at length discovered a perforation in the brushwood, so small, that it might have been easily mistaken for the avenue leading to the den of some wild beast, but which, a closer inspection persuaded him, might have been used by human creatures, there being quite enough of room for one man at a time to creep through it in astooping posture. At all events he was resolved to explore it, and accordingly, having first stationed his attendant, Michael Forbes, in a concealed place, near to its entrance, that he might watch and give him warning if any one approached from without, he bent himself down, and began his strange and hazardous enterprise.Creeping along, with his bonnet off, and almost on his hands and knees, he found that the track, which inclined gently at first over the rounded edge of the ravine, became, as he proceeded, nearly as steep as an upright ladder, but it was less encumbered with branches than the first part of the way had been, though there was still enough of growth to aid him in his descent, and to take away all appearance of danger. It went diagonally down the face of the cliff, dropping from one narrow ledge of footing in the rock, to that beneath it, with considerable intervals between each. But to one accustomed, as Patrick Stewart was, to scramble like a goat, the difficulties it presented were as nothing. All his anxiety and care was exertedto guard, if possible, against surprise, as well as against making any noise that might betray his approach, to any one who might be harboured in the ravine below.Having at last got to the foot of the precipice, he found it somewhat easier to descend the rugged slope that inclined downwards from its base, and, upon reaching the bottom, he discovered that the track continued to lead onwards under the arched limbs of an overthrown pine, the smaller branches and spray of which, appeared, on a minute examination, to have been evidently broken away by frequent passage through underneath it. This circumstance he had some difficulty in discovering, as the increasing darkness was rendered deeper here, by the overhanging shade of the rocks and trees high above him. Bending beneath the boughs of the fir, he advanced with yet greater caution, and with some difficulty, over the rugged and angular fragments, until he suddenly observed something, that made it prudent for him to halt for a moment, that he might well consider his position. This abrupt stop was occasioned by hisobserving a faint gleam of light, that partially illumined the broad side, and moss-grown edge, of a large mass of stone, a little way in advance of the place where he then was. He hardly breathed, and he tried to listen—and, for a moment, he fancied he heard a murmur like that of human voices. Again he stretched his ear, and again he felt persuaded that he heard the sound of the voices coming hollow on his ear, as if from some cavity, somewhere below the surface, at a little distance beyond him. Resolving at last to proceed, he moved on gently, and upon a nearer approach to the great stone, on the broad edge of which the light fell, he found that it formed one side of a natural entrance to a passage, that led upwards under the enormous superincumbent masses, that had been piled up over it, in their fall from the shattered crags above. Pausing again for a moment, he drew himself up behind a projecting part of another huge stone, that formed the dark side of the entrance, that he might again listen. He was now certain that he distinctly heard voices proceeding from within, though he was not yet nearenough to the speakers to be able to make out their words. The smell of the wood smoke was exceedingly powerful, and his heart began to beat high, for he was now convinced that his adventure was drawing to a crisis.He plucked forth his dirk, and stooped to enter the place. He found the passage to be low, narrow, gently ascending, and running somewhat in an oblique direction, from the illuminated stone at the mouth, for a few paces inwards, till it met with another block of great size. The edges of this block glowed with a brighter light, that seemed to come directly upon it, at a right angle, from some fire, not then visible, but which was evidently blazing within, and which was again reflected from the side of this stone towards that of the stone at the entrance.Having crept onwards to this second fragment of rock, where the passage took its new direction, he discovered that it led into a large, and very irregularly-shaped chamber, which was within a few feet only of the spot which he had now reached, but he had no accurate means of judging of the full extent of the cavern. He couldnow see the rousing fire that was burning in a recess, in the side of the rocky wall of the place, the smoke from which seemed to find its way upwards, through some natural crevice immediately over it, for the interior of this subterranean den was by no means obscured by any great accumulation of it. By the light of the fire, one or two dark holes were seen, apparently forming low passages of connection with other chambers. How many living beings the place might then contain, he had no means of knowing or guessing. All that came within the field of his vision were two persons, which he supposed were those whose voices he had heard. One of these was a slim youth, who was employed in feeding the fire from time to time with pieces of rotten wood and branches, and in attending to a large pot, that hung over it by an iron chain, depending from a strong hook fastened in the rock above. But the youth and his occupations were altogether disregarded by Patrick Stewart, in the intense interest and delight which he experienced in beholding the Lady Catherine Forbes, the fair object of his toilsome search, who sat pensivelyand in tears, on a bundle of heather on the farther side of the fire.You will easily believe, gentlemen, that it was difficult for him to subdue his impatient feelings, so far as to restrain himself from at once rushing forward to snatch her to his arms. But prudence whispered him that her safety might depend on the caution he should use. Ignorant as he was of the extent of the subterranean den, or how it might be tenanted, he felt the necessity of exerting his self-command, and to remain quietly where he was for a little time, until he might be enabled to form some judgment, from what he should see and hear, as to the probable force he should have to contend with, as well as to determine what might be his best plan of action.“If thou wouldst but listen to my entreaty,” said Catherine Forbes, addressing the youth in an earnest tone of supplication, whilst the tears that ran down her cheeks roused Patrick’s feelings to an agonizing pitch of intensity—“If thou wouldst but fly with me, and take me toCurgarf, my father would give thee gold enough to enrich thee and thine for all thy life.”“I tell thee again that it is useless to talk of it, lady,” replied the youth. “I have already told thee that I pity thee, but it were more than my life were worth to do as thou wouldst have me. And what is gold, I pray thee, compared to such a risk?”“Methinks that, once out amidst these wide hills and forests, the risk would be but small indeed,” said Catherine.“That is all true,” replied the youth. “The hills and forests are wide; but the men of the band well know every nook and turn of them. Nay, they are every where, and come pop upon one at the very time when they are least looked for. Holy Virgin, an’ we were to meet any of them as we fled!—My head sits uneasily on my neck at the very thought!—By the Rood, but there would be a speedy divorce between them! and where would your gold be then, lady?”“Then let me go try to explore mine own way without thee,” said the Lady Catherine.“Talk not of it, lady,” replied the youth, impatiently. “My head would go for it, I tell thee.—It would go the moment they should return and find that thou hadst escaped. They may be already near at hand, too, if I mistake not the time of evening. Therefore, teaze me no more, I pray thee.”“Spirits of mine ancestors, give me strength and boldness!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up energetically, after a moment’s pause, during which she seemed to have taken her resolution, and assuming a commanding attitude and air as she spoke.—“Let me pass, young man!—give me way, I say!—or I will struggle with thee to the death, but I will force a passage!”“I have a sharp argument against that,” said the youth, drawing his dirk, and planting himself in the gap before her.—“Stand back!—or thou shalt have every inch of its blade.”“Out of the way, vermin!” cried Patrick Stewart, no longer able to contain his rage, and dashing down the youth before him as he entered.“Patrick!—my dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, flying into his arms with a scream of joy.“My dearest, dearest Catherine!” said Patrick, fondly—“this is indeed to be rewarded!—Wretch!” cried he, grappling the youth by the throat, and putting the point of his dirk to his breast, as he was in the act of rising from the ground, apparently with the intention of making his escape—“Wretch! our safety requires thy death.”“Oh, do not kill me, good Sir Knight!” cried the terrified youth piteously, and with a countenance as pale as a corpse.“Spare him!—spare him!” cried Catherine,—“his worthless life is unworthy of thy blade.”“Oh, mercy, mercy!” cried the youth again.—“Spare me!—spare me!—oh, do not kill me!”“If I did kill thee, it would be no more than what thou hast well merited,” said Patrick.—“But, as thou sayest, Catherine, my love, such worthless blood should never wantonly soil the steel of a brave man; and if I could but makehim secure by any other means, I should be better contented.”“Bind me, if thou wilt, Sir Knight; but, oh, do not!—do not kill me!” cried the youth.“Well then, I will spare thy life, though I half question the wisdom of so doing,” said Patrick.Casting his eyes around the cave, he espied some ropes lying in a dark corner. Catherine flew and brought them to him. He seized them, and quickly bound the youth neck and heel, in such a manner as to make it quite impossible for him to move body or limb, and then, lifting him in his arms, he groped his way with him into the farther end of one of those dark recesses that branched off from the main cavern, and there he deposited him.“Now, let us fly, my love!” cried he, hastily returning to the Lady Catherine. “Every moment we tarry here is fraught with danger.—Follow me quickly!—I grieve to think of the fatigue you must undergo. But cheer up, and trust for your defence, from all danger, to this good arm of mine. Above all things, be silent.”“With thee as my protector I am strong and bold,” said Catherine. “Thanks be to the Virgin for this deliverance!”Patrick now led the Lady Catherine forth into the open air. But before he ventured to proceed, he listened for a moment to ascertain that there was no one near. To his great horror, and to the lady’s death-like alarm, they distinctly heard a footstep slowly and cautiously approaching. Pushing Catherine gently behind the dark mass of stone at the entrance, he placed himself before her in the shadow, that, whilst concealed by it himself, he might have a perfect view of whosoever came, the moment the person should advance into the light, that was reflected on the wall-like side of the rocky mass opposite to him, and fell on the ground for a little space beyond it. He listened, with attention so breathless, that he seemed to hear every beat of his own heart, as well as of that of his trembling companion. The footstep was that of one person only, and he felt as if his resolution was quite equal to an encounter with a dozen; but he knewnot how many might be following, and he was fully conscious of the importance, as regarded the lady, of avoiding a conflict, unless rendered indispensable by circumstances. The step came on, falling gently, at intervals of several moments, as if the individual who approached was unwilling to make the least unnecessary noise. The dim figure of a man at length appeared, under the arched boughs of the fallen pine tree. He advanced, step by step, with increased caution. A dirk blade, which he held forward in his outstretched hand, first caught the stream of reflected light that came from the mouth of the cavern. The next step that the figure took brought his face under its influence; and, to the great relief of Patrick Stewart, displayed the features of Michael Forbes. Patrick gave a low whistle. Michael had at that moment stopped to listen, with a strange expression of dread and horror, to the complaints of the youth who was bound in the innermost recesses of the cavern, whence they came, reduced by its sinuosities, into a low wild moaning sound, that hadsomething supernatural in it, so as to be quite enough to appal any superstitious mind. The whistle startled him.“Michael!” said Patrick in a low tone of voice, “why did’st thou desert thy post?”“Holy virgin, is that you, Sir Knight?” said Michael, in a voice which seemed to convey a doubt whether he was not holding converse with a spirit.“What could make you desert your post?” demanded Patrick, angrily, and at the same time showing himself.“Holy saints, I am glad that it is really you, Sir Knight,” replied Michael. “I crave your pardon, but your long delay led me to fear that something had befallen you, and that you might lack mine aid.”“Had an accident befallen me, Michael,” said Patrick, “thine aid, I fear, would have been of little avail. But we have lost much time by this thy neglect of mine orders. Quick! let us lose no more, and give me thy best help to aid thy mistress, the Lady Catherine.”“The Virgin be praised!” exclaimed Michael, as Catherine appeared; “then the lady is safe!”“But so for only,” replied Patrick Stewart. “We have yet much peril to encounter; but our perils are increased every precious moment that we loiter here. Get thee on quickly before us to the top of the path where it quits the ravine,—the spot, I mean, where I left thee, and see that you be sure to give me good warning, shouldst thou see or hear any thing to cause alarm.”Michael obeyed; and Patrick, having led Catherine out from under the boughs of the fallen pine, began to assist her in ascending the path. He had some difficulty in dragging her up the wild-cat’s ladder that scaled the side of the cliff; but, by the assistance of his strongly nerved arm, she reached the summit without danger. She then forced her way through the narrow passage in the brushwood that grew over the top of the crags, until she had at length the satisfaction of being able to stand erect, to receive the cooling mountain breeze on her flushed cheek and throbbing temples. Butthis was no place for them to rest. Patrick whistled softly, and Michael appeared.“Catherine, my love,” said he, “this is no time for ceremony. Give one arm to Michael, and put the other firmly into mine—so. Now take the best care you can of your footing, and lean well upon me as we go down the mountain side. Oh, how I long to talk to thee! But, dearest, we must be silent as death, for we know not whom we may meet.”After a long, rough, and slippery descent, they came at length into a narrow glen, where the trees grew taller and farther apart from each other. This was so far fortunate for them; for as the shadows of night became deeper here than they had been on the mountain side, they were compelled to move slower; and it required all the care of the Lady Catherine’s supporters, to save her from the injuries she might have sustained from the numerous fallen branches, and other obstacles lying in their way.They had nearly reached the lower extremity of this lesser tributary glen, where it discharged a small rill into the wider glen and stream ofthe Aven, when Patrick Stewart suddenly halted.“Stop!” cried he; “I hear voices on the breeze, and they come this way too. We must up the bank, Michael. Courage, my dearest Catherine! let me help thee to climb. Trust me love, thou hast nothing to fear.”“I fear nothing whilst thou art by my side,” replied Catherine, exerting herself to the utmost.“Now,” said Patrick, after they had half carried her some thirty or forty paces up the steep slope; “we have time to go no farther. Hark! they come! Stretch thyself at length among this long heather, Catherine, and let me throw my plaid over thee. Nay, now I think on’t, Michael’s green one is better, the red of mine might be more visible. There; that will do. Now, Michael, draw thy good claymore, as I do mine. Here are two thick trunks which stand well placed in front of us. Do thou take thy stand behind that one, whilst I post myself behind this, so that both of us may be between the lady and danger. They cannot come at her but by passing between us. Andif they do! But see that thou dost not strike till I give thee the word. Hush! they come!”They had hardly thus disposed of themselves, when the voices drew nearer, and the dusky figures were obscurely seen moving up the bottom of the little glen. They came loitering on, one after another, in what we of the army used to call Indian files,—man following man along the track, where they knew that the footing was likely to be the best. This plan of march necessarily made them longer of passing by, but it relieved those who were lurking in the bank above from any great fear of being discovered by any stray straggler. Two individuals of the party, who had probably some sort of command over the rest, were considerably in advance. These lingered on their way, and halted more than once to give time for those that followed to come up, so that Patrick Stewart caught a sentence or two of the conversation that fell from them.“He must be as cunning as the devil,” said one of them to the other, in Gaelic.“Thou knowest that she has not yet seenhis face,” replied the other; “so that, when he comes to act the part of her deliverer, she will never suspect that it was to him she was indebted for her unwilling travel last night, and her present confinement. And then, you see, he thinks, in this way, to make his own, both of her and her old father, by his pretended gallantry in rescuing her from——”Patrick Stewart in vain stretched his ears to catch more, for on came the rest in closer lines, gabbling together so loudly about trifles, and with voices so commingled, that it was not possible to gather the least sense out of their talk. These all passed onwards; and, a little way behind them, came four other men, who walked very slowly, and stopped occasionally to converse in Gaelic, like people, who were so travel-worn, that they were not sorry to halt now and then, and to rest against a tree for a few moments.“What made Grigor Beg stop behind Allister?” demanded one.“Hoo! you may well guess it was nothing but his old trick,” replied the other. “The boddoch would have fain had me to tarry forhim, that I might help him, by carrying a part of what load he might get. But I was no such fool. My shoulders ache enough already with carrying the rough rungs of that accursed litter last night, to let me wish for any new burden.”“If thou hadst not been carrying the bonny lassie for another’s pleasure, methinks you would maybe have thought less of it,” said a third man.Whilst attentively listening to this dialogue, Patrick Stewart observed some ill-defined object, coming stealing up the slope of the bank, in a diagonal line, from the place a little way down the glen, where the four men had halted. It came on noiselessly, but steadily pointing towards the spot where Catherine lay. It stopped, and uttered a short bark, and Patrick now saw that it was a large, rough, Highland wolf-dog. Again, with its long snout directed towards the plaid that covered Catherine, it barked and snarled.“Dermot, boy!—Dermot!”—cried one of the men from the hollow below.—“What hast thou got there?”As if encouraged by its master’s voice, the animal barked and snarled again yet more eagerly, and seemed to be on the very eve of springing upon the plaid. The blade of Patrick Stewart’s claymore made one swift circuit in the air, and, descending like a flash of lightning on the neck of the creature, his head and his body rolled asunder into different parts of the heather, and again Patrick took his silent but determined stand behind the tree.“Dermot!—Dermot, boy!”—cried the man again from below.—“What think ye is the beast at, lads?”“Some foulmart or badger it may be,” replied another.“Can’st thou not go up and see, man?” said a third.“Go thyself, my good man,” said the dog’s master.—“I am fond enough of the dog—aye, and, for that part, I am fond enough of travel too, but I am content with my share of fagg for this day without going up the brae there to seek for more. A man may e’en have his serving of the best haggis that ever came out of a pot.Trust me, I am for going no foot to-night beyond what I can help.—Dermot—Dermot, boy!—See ye any thing of him at all, lads?”“The last sight that I had of him at all, was near yon dark looking hillock, a good way up the bank yonder,” said another man.“I’m thinking that the brute has winded a passing roebuck,” said the fourth man, “I thought I saw something like a glimmer just against the light cloud yonder above, as if it had been the dog darting over the height, the very moment after the last bark he gave.”“Dermot! whif-hoo-if!” cried the dog’s master, and, at the same time, whistling shrilly upon his fingers. “Tut! the fiend catch him for me! let him go! I’ll be bound that he’ll be home before us.”“Come, then, let’s on!” said another, “I wonder much that Grigor Beg hath not come up with us ere this.”“Hulloah, Grigor!” shouted one of them. “No, no, we’ll not see him so soon, I’ll warrant ye.”“Come! come away, lads!” said another,moving on with the rest following him. “I’ll be bound that the boddoch hath got a swingeing load upon his back.”“Awell!” said one of the first speakers, “rather him than me. But we shan’t be the worse of it when it’s well broiled, for all that. I’m sure I wish I had a bit of it at this moment, for I’m famishing. I’m dead tired to-night; I hope that we may have some rest to-morrow. Know ye aught that is to do?”“I heard the Captain say that”——but the rest of the dialogue was cut off by the distance which the men had by this time reached.“Thanks be to St. Peter, they are gone at last!” said Patrick Stewart. “How my fingers itched to have a cut at the villains.—Catherine,” continued he, lifting the plaid, and assisting her to rise, “art thou not half dead with terror? But courage, my love. There lies the murderous four-footed savage, whose fell fangs had so nearly been busied with the plaid that covered thee. If we may trust to what we have just heard, there is but one manto come; and, judging by the name of Beg1which they gave him, he ought to be no very formidable person. Michael, get thee on a few steps in front, and keep a good look out for him. Were we but out of this narrow place, and fairly into the wider glen of the Aven, we should have less to fear, and then we shall find means to carry thee.”“Thanks to the Virgin, I am yet strong,” said Catherine. “Let us fly, then, with all speed.”A farther walk, of a few minutes only, brought them into Glen Aven, and they pursued its downward course, for a considerable length of way, until Patrick Stewart began to perceive something like fatigue in the Lady Catherine’s step. He therefore halted, and made her sit down to rest a while. In the mean time, he and Michael Forbes contrived to hew down two small sapling fir trees, by the aid of their good claymores, and having tied their plaids between them,they, in this manner, very speedily constructed a tolerably easy litter for the lady to recline at length in. This they carried between them, by resting the ends of the poles upon their shoulders, Patrick making Michael Forbes go foremost, and reserving the place behind for himself. I need hardly tell you that the Stewart especially selected that position, for the obvious reason that he might be thereby enabled to cheer the Lady Catherine’s spirits, and to lighten her fatigues, by now and then addressing a word or two of comfort to her as they went. In this manner they pursued their way down the glen, until the loud roar of many waters informed them that they were approaching the grand waterfall, called the Lynn of Aven. You will have ample opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with all the details of this fine scene, gentlemen, as you go up the glen to-morrow. But in the meanwhile, I may tell you generally, that the whole of this large river, there precipitates itself headlong, through a comparatively narrow chasm in the rocks, into a long, wide, and extremely deep pool below.The sound increased as the bearers of the litter drew nearer to the waterfall, and the rocky and confined passage, over which they had to make their way, compelled them to walk at greater leisure, and to select their footing with more caution. Fortunately they had now the advantage of the moon, which had been for some time shining favourably upon them, and they were already within a very few steps of coming immediately over the waterfall, when they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful and most unearthly shriek. It came apparently from the very midst of the descending column of water below them.“Holy Virgin Mother!” cried Michael Forbes, halting, and backing like a restive horse, so unexpectedly, that the ends of the poles were nearly jerked from Patrick Stewart’s shoulders, by the shock which was thus communicated to them. “Holy Mother, didst thou not hear that, Sir Knight?”“I did hear something,” said Stewart, not quite willing to increase that dread which he perceived was already quite sufficiently excitedin his companion, and of which he could not altogether divest himself. “I did fancy that I heard something. But for the love of the Virgin take care what thou dost. Thou hadst almost shaken the poles from my shoulders by thy sudden start.—Come! proceed man!”Again, a louder, and more appalling shriek arose from the midst of the cataract, piercing their ears above all the roaring of its thunder.“For the love of all the saints, let us turn back, Sir Knight!” cried Michael. “It is the water-kelpie himself!”“Nay,” said Patrick Stewart; “back we may not go, without the risk of falling again into the very jaws of the Catteranes. They are no doubt hard on foot after us by this time.—Forward then, and fear not!”Again came the wild shriek, if possible louder and more terrible than before.“For the love of God, Sir Knight, back!” cried Michael, now losing all command of himself, and forcing the litter so backwards upon Patrick Stewart, as to compel him, from the narrowness of the rocky shelf where they thenstood, to retreat in a corresponding degree, to avoid the certain alternative of being precipitated over the giddy ledge into the boiling stream of the Aven. “For the love of God, back, I say! were it but for a few paces, till we have leisure to lay down our burden, and cross ourselves.”“Merciful saints! what will become of us?” cried the Lady Catherine, in great alarm.“Now,” said Patrick Stewart, after yielding a few steps, “now, we may surely halt here till thy courage return to thee, Michael. What a fiend hath so unmanned thee to-night? I thought thou hadst been brave as a lion.”“A fiend indeed, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, as they were laying down the litter; “I trust that I lack not courage, at any time, to face any mortal foe that ever came before me. But,” added he, eagerly crossing himself, “to meet with the devil thus in one’s very path!—Good angels be about us, heard ye not that scream again? Have mercy upon us all!”“There is something very strange in this,” said Patrick Stewart. “But this will neverdo. We cannot tarry here long without the certainty of being overtaken by the whole body of the Catteranes. By this time they must be well on their way in pursuit of us.”“Holy Virgin! what will become of us if we should fall into their hands?” cried the Lady Catherine, in an agony of distress.“Fear not, my love!” said Patrick Stewart; “I will forthwith fathom this mystery. I will see whence these horrible screams proceed.”“Nay, Sir Patrick, tempt not thy fate,” cried Michael. “If thou dost, thou goest to thy certain destruction.”“Oh stir not, dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up from the litter, and endeavouring to detain him. “Do not attempt so great, so dreadful a danger.”“Catherine, my dearest!” said Patrick, fondly taking her hands in his; “listen to reason, I entreat thee. The danger that presses on us from behind is imminent, and more than what two swords, good as they may be, could by any means save thee from. And since God hath given us strength to flee from it, he willnot forsake me in a conflict with the powers of hell, should they stand in my way. I go forward in his holy name, then; have no fear for me therefore. Rest thine arm upon Michael, dearest—tell thy beads, and may the blessed Virgin hover over thee to protect thee! As for you, Michael, draw your claymore, and stir not a step from the lady till I call thee.”Patrick Stewart now crossed himself, and then strode, slowly and resolutely, along the narrow ledge of rock towards the roaring lynn, repeating a paternoster as he went. The moon was by this time high in the heavens, and its beams produced a faint tinge of the rainbow’s hues, as they played among the mists that arose from the waterfall. The shrieks that came from below were now loud and incessant, and might have quailed the stoutest heart. But still Patrick advanced firmly, till he stood upon a shelving rock, forming the very verge of the roaring cataract, whence he could throw his eyes directly downwards, through the shooting foam, into the abyss below. Far down, in the midst of the rising vapour, and apparently suspendedin it, close by the edge of the descending column of water, he could distinguish a dark object. New and more piercing screams arose from it. He bent forward, and looked yet more intently. To his no inconsiderable dismay, he beheld a fearful head rear itself, as it were from out of it; the long hair by which it was covered, and the immense beard that flowed from the chin, hanging down, drenched by the surrounding moisture, and the eyes glaring fearfully in the moonlight, whilst the terrific screams were inconceivably augmented. Appalled as he was by this most unaccountable apparition, Patrick was shifting his position, in order to lean yet more forward, that he might the better contemplate it, when the toe of his sandal grazed against something that had nearly destroyed his equilibrium, and sent him headlong over the rock. Having, with some difficulty, recovered himself, he stooped down to ascertain what had tripped him, when he found, to his surprise, that it was a rope. He now remembered, that the feudal tenant of the neighbouring ground, who owed service to hisfather, Sir Allan, was accustomed to hang a conical creel, or large rude basket, by the edge of the fall, for the purpose of catching the salmon that fell into it, after failing in their vain attempts to leap up.“Ho, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, in that voice of thunder, which he required to exert in order to overcome the continuous roar of the cataract.“Oh, help! help! help!” cried the fearful head from below.“Man or demon, I will see what thou art!” cried Patrick, stooping down to lay hold of the rope, with the intention of making an attempt to pull up the creel.“For the love of Saint Andrew, lay not a hand on the rope, Sir Knight, as thou may’st value thy life!” said Michael Forbes, who, having heard Patrick’s loud shout, had been hurried off to his aid by the fears and the commands of the Lady Catherine.“Why hast thou left the lady, caitiff?” demanded Patrick Stewart, angrily. “Did I not tell thee to stay with her till I should call thee?”“We heard thee call loudly, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, trembling more from his proximity to the place whence the screams had issued, than from any thing that Patrick had said.“True, I had forgotten,” replied Patrick; “I did call, though not on thee. But since thou art here, come lend me thy hand to pull up the basket.”“Nay, Sir Knight; surely thou art demented by devilish influence. For the love of all the saints!” cried Michael, quaking from head to foot; “for the love of ——”“Dastard, obey my command, or I will hurl thee over the rock!” cried Patrick furiously, and with a manner that showed Michael that it was time to obey. “Now, pull—pull steadily and firmly; pull away, I say!”“Have mercy on us! have mercy on our souls!” cried Michael, pulling most unwillingly.“What a fiend are you afraid of? Why don’t you pull, I say?” cried the Knight again.“Jesu Maria protect me! that I should have a hand in any such work!” muttered Michael. “Oh holy Virgin! to have thus to deal with the Devil himself!”“Come! pull!—pull away, I tell ye—pull! aye, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, as the basket at last came to the top of the rock.“Preserve us all!” cried Michael; “the water-kelpie, sure enough! Mercy on us, what a fearful red beard! what terrible fiery eyes! For the love of heaven, Sir Knight, let him down again!”“Coward!” cried Patrick, “if you let go the rope, I’ll massacre thee! Now, do you hear? pull the creel well out this way.—Ha, that will do!—Now I think it is safe.”“Oh, may the blessed saints reward thee!” said a little shred of a man, who now arose, shaking in a palsy of cold and wet, from the midst of at least a dozen large salmon, with which the creel was heaped up; “Thou hast saved me from the most dreadful of deaths.”“How camest thou there?” demanded Patrick Stewart; “answer quickly, for we are in haste.”“Oh, I know not well how I got there,” said the little man, shivering so that he could hardly speak. “I stept aside from the path, just totake a look down to see if there were any salmon in the creel, when something took my foot, and over I went. Oh, what a providence it was that ye came by! Another hour, and I must have been dead from cold and wet, and buried in salmon, for they were flying in upon me like so many swallows. I thought they would have choked me.”“Here,” said Patrick Stewart, taking out a flask, “take a sup of this cordial; it will speedily restore thee.”“Oh, blessings on thee, Sir Knight!” said the little man; “I will drink thy health with good will. But tell me thy name, I pray thee, that I may know, and never forget, who it was that saved my life.”“I am Patrick Stewart of Clan-Allan,” replied the knight carelessly. “Come now, Michael, we must tarry here no longer.”“Sure I am that I shall never forget the name of Sir Patrick Stewart,” said the little man, whilst he was following them along the narrow path, as they retraced it towards the place where they had left the Lady Catherine; “and ifever I can do thee a good turn I shall do it, though it were by the sacrifice of my life.”Catherine’s fears were soon allayed by the explanation that was given her. She was again put into the litter, which was quickly shouldered by her protectors, the little man lending them a willing helping hand; and Patrick and Michael proceeded on their way, whilst the half-drowned wretch went up the glen, pouring out blessings upon them. Without fear or interruption they now passed by the spot which had occasioned them so much dread and delay, and they soon left the roar of the lynn behind them, and at length reached the ravine of Cuachan Searceag, where, much to their relief, they found the whole of the party anxiously waiting for them. When the Forbeses beheld Patrick Stewart, and, above all, when they beheld their young mistress, the daughter of their Chief, safe and well among them, they rent the air with shouts of joy that made the whole glen ring again.“Aye,” said Patrick Stewart, as they sat down to rest a little while, and to take some hasty refreshment, “We may now make whatnoise we list, for, if the whole gang of these accursed Catteranes should come upon us, we have brave hearts and keen claymores enow to meet them. But, for all that, we have too precious a charge with us to tarry for the mere pleasure of a conflict; so be stirring my men, and let us breast the hill as fast as may be.”You may all well enough guess, gentlemen, how Patrick Stewart was received by the old Lord of Curgarf when he entered his hall, leading in his fair daughter safe and sound. The joy of the father was not the less, that his son, Arthur the Master of Forbes, had returned but a brief space of time before, jaded, dispirited, and sorrowful, from his long, tiresome, and fruitless expedition. Worn with anxiety, the old man had counted watch after watch of the night, and the day and the night again, until his son’s arrival, and then he had sunk into the most overwhelming despair. After pouring forth thanks to Heaven, and to all the saints, he now gave way to his joy. The midnight feast was spread, and all was revelry and gladness in the castle. Patrick Stewart was now viewed by him as his guardian angel. Seeing this, Arthur Forbestook an opportunity of advising his friend to profit by the happy circumstance which had now placed him so high in his father’s good opinion. He did so—and the result was, that he obtained the willing consent of the old Lord of Curgarf to his union with his daughter, the Lady Catherine, with the promise of a tocher which should be worthy of her.The happiness of the lovers was now complete, and the next day was spent in open and unrestrained converse between them. The time was fixed for the wedding, and then it was, after all these arrangements had been made, that Patrick Stewart first had leisure fully torecallto mind, all those afflicting circumstances which had taken place when he last saw his brother Walter. He thought of his father—he felt the necessity of going immediately home, to relieve any anxiety which his father, Sir Allan, might have, in consequence of his unexplained absence, as well as to make him acquainted with his approaching marriage. He accordingly took a tender leave of his fair bride that evening, and, starting next morning, he made his way over the hills to Drummin.Patrick Stewart was already within sight of home, when his attention was arrested by the blast of a bugle, which rang shrilly from the hill above him. It conveyed to him that private signal which was always used between his brother Walter and himself. For the first time in his life it grated harshly in his ear, for it immediately brought back to his recollection those oppressively painful circumstances which had occurred at Dalestie, which he had so studiously endeavoured to banish from his memory. But the strong tide of brotherly affection within him was too resistless not to sweep away every feeling connected with the past. He applied his bugle to his lips, and returned the call; and, looking up the side of the hill, he beheld Walter, and a party of the Clan-Allan, hastening down through the scattered greenwood to meet him.“Thanks be to Heaven and good Saint Hubert that I see thee safe, my dearest Patrick,” said Sir Walter, hurrying towards him, and warmly embracing him. “Hast thou forgiven a brother’s anger and unkindness?”“Could’st thou believe that I could for a moment remember it, my dear Walter?” replied Patrick, returning his embrace.“Where in the name of wonder hast thou been wandering?” demanded Sir Walter. “Wherehast thou been since that night—that night of justice, yet of horror—when you disappeared so mysteriously? Since that moment, when I returned home and found thee not, I have done little else, night or day, but travel about hither and thither, anxiously seeking for tidings of thee.”“Let us walk apart,” said Patrick in his ear, “and I will tell thee all that has befallen me.”“Willingly,” said Sir Walter in the same tone; “for, in exculpation of myself, I would now fain pour into thy private ear all those circumstances which secretly urged me to execute that stern act of justice and necessity, which then thou could’st not comprehend, and against which thy recoiling humanity did naturally enough compel thee so urgently to protest.”Arm in arm the two brothers then walked onalone, at such a distance before their clansmen as might insure the perfect privacy of their talk, and long ere they reached Drummin, they had fully communicated to each other all that they had mutually to impart. Old Sir Allan had been querulous and impatient about Patrick’s absence, and he had been every now and then peevishly inquiring about him. But now that his son appeared, he seemed to have forgotten that he had not been always with him. He was pleased and proud when the contemplated marriage was communicated to him, and he enjoined Sir Walter to see to it, that every thing handsome should be done on the occasion. In this respect, Sir Walter’s generosity required no stimulus; and if Patrick was dissatisfied at all, it was with the over liberality which his brother manifested, which, in some particulars, he felt inclined to resist.“Patrick,” said Sir Walter aside to his brother, with a more than ordinarily serious air, “I give thee but thine own in advance. One day or other it will be all thine own. There is something within me that tells me that I am notlong for this world. The last words of that wretch, delivered to me, as I told thee, from the midst of those flames that consumed him, were prophetic. But, be that as it may, I have never had thoughts of marrying, and now I am firmly resolved that I never shall marry, so that thou art the sole prop of our house.”The entrance of the retainers, and the spreading of the evening meal, put a stop to all farther conversation between the brothers. Patrick had not yet seen either the Lady Stradawn, or her son Murdoch. On inquiry, he was told that Murdoch had gone on some unknown expedition on the previous day, and that he had not yet returned. A circumstance, so common with him, excited no surprise. As for the Lady Stradawn, she now came swimming into the hall, with her countenance clothed in all its usual smiles. Her salutation to her stepsons was full of well-dissembled warmth and affection. She hastened, with her wonted affectation of fondness, to bustle about Sir Allan, with the well-feigned pretence of anxiety to attend to his wants, after which she took her place at the head of the board. It wasthen that Patrick’s eyes became suddenly fixed upon her with a degree of astonishment, which, fortunately for him, the busy occupation of every one else at the table left them no leisure to observe. To his utter amazement, he beheld in her bosom that very garnet brooch which he had given to Catherine Forbes! His first impulse was to demand from her an explanation of the circumstances by which she had become possessed of it; but a little reflection soon enabled him to control his feelings, though he continued to sit gazing at the well-known jewel, altogether forgetful of the feast, until the lady arose to retire to her chamber.“My dearest Sir Allan,” said she, going up to the old knight’s chair to bestow her caresses on him ere she went; “My dearest Sir Allan, thou hast eaten nothing for these two days. What can I get for thee that may tickle thy palate into thy wonted appetite? Said’st thou not something of a deer’s heart, for which thou hadst a longing? ’Tis a strange fancy, I’m sure.”“Oh, aye! very true,—a deer’s heart!” said the doting old man. “Very true, indeed, my love. I did dream—oh, aye—I dreamed, I say, Bella, that I was eating the rosten heart of a stag—of a greathart of sixteen,2killed by my boys on the hill of Dalestie—aye, aye—and with arrows feathered from an eagle’s wing. As I ate, and better ate, I always grew stronger and stronger, till at length I was able to rise from my chair as stoutly as ever I did in my life—ouch, aye! that day is gone! Yet much would I like to eat the rosten heart of a deer; but it would need to be that of a great hart of sixteen.”“My dear father, thou shalt not want that,” said Sir Walter; “thou shalt have it ere I am a day older, if a hart of sixteen be to be found between this and Loch Aven.”“Aye, aye, Walter boy, as thou sayest,” said the old man; “a great hart of sixteen—else hath the heart of the beast no potency in’t—aye, and killed with an arrow feathered from an eagle’s wing—och, aye—hoch-hey!”Though the two brothers were satisfied that this was nothing but the drivelling of age, they were not the less anxiously desirous to gratify their father’s wish to the very letter. Accordingly, the necessary orders were given, and the trusty Dugald Roy3was forthwith summoned to prepare six arrows, which would have been easily supplied, with the small portions of feather which were necessary for them, from the eagle wing in Sir Walter’s bonnet. But Sir Allan stopped him as he was about to tear it off.“What, Sir!” exclaimed the old man testily, and in a state of agitation that shook every fibre of his frame like a palsy;—“What! wouldst thou shear the eagle plume of my boy Walter, thou ill-omened bird that thou art? Yonder hangs mine; it can never more appear bearing proudly forward in the foremost shock of the battle-field. Och, hey, that is true! Take that, thou raven! Thou may’st rend it as ye list. But, my boy’s!—the proud plume of mine eldest born boy!—thou shalt never take that!”“I crave your pardon, Sir Knight,” replied Dugald Roy; “and now I think on’t, I need not take either, for I have some spare wing feathers in my store that will do all the turn.”The next morning saw Sir Walter and his brother Patrick early on foot, dressed in their plainest hunting attire, stretching up the valley at the head of their attendants. Each of the brothers had three of the eagle-winged arrows stuck into his belt; for, as both were dexterous marksmen, and as they had resolved to use their shafts against nothing else but a great hart of sixteen, they felt themselves to be thus most amply provided to insure success. Fortune was somewhat adverse to them, however; for although they saw deer in abundance, they found themselves in this very part of the valley, when the day was already far spent, without having once had a chance of effecting their object.“Look ye there, brother Walter!” at length cried Patrick Stewart suddenly, as he pointed to a hart with a magnificent head, which was crossingto this side of the river, at the ford you see above yonder. “Look ye there brother! there he goes at last!”“By the rood, but that is the very fellow we want,” replied Sir Walter. “Watch him! See!—he takes the hill aslant. He will not go far, if we may judge from his present pace.”“I saw him walk over that open knoll in the wood high up yonder,” said Patrick, after some minutes of pause. “He has no mind to go farther than the dip of the hill above. I think that we are sure of finding him there. What say you brother?”“Thou art right, Patrick,” said Walter. “Then do thou run on, and take the long hollow in the hill-side, beyond the big pine tree yonder. I will follow up the slack behind us here. Let your sweep be wide, that we may be sure of stalking well in beyond him, so that, if we fail of getting proper vantage of him, we may be sure that we drive him not farther a-field. Let us take no sleuth-hound, nor bratchet neither, lest, perchance, we cause himalarm. You, my merry men, will tarry here for us with the dogs.”Off went the two brothers, each in his own direction, and each with his bow in his hand, and his three arrows in his belt. In obedience to Sir Walter’s directions, Patrick hurried away to the great pine tree, and then began his ascent through the long hollow in the woody mountain’s side with all manner of expedition. After a long and fatiguing climb, he began to use less speed and more caution, as he approached nearer to the somewhat less steep ground, where his hopes lay. Then it was that he commenced making a long sweep around, stealing silently from tree to tree, and concealing himself, as much as he could, by keeping their thick trunks before him, and creeping along among the heather, where such a precaution was necessary. Having completed his sweep to such an extent as led him to believe that he had certainly got beyond the hart, he was about to creep down the hill, in the hope of soon coming upon him, when he chanced toobserve a great uprooted pine, which lay prostrated a little way farther on, and somewhat above the spot where he then was, its head rising above the heather like a great green hillock. Thinking that he might as well have one peep beyond it before he turned downwards, and wishing to avail himself of its shade to mask his motions, he took a direct course towards it. But it so happened, that the hart had found it equally convenient for the same purpose, as well as for a place of outlook, for it had taken post close to it, on the farther side. Descrying Patrick Stewart through an accidental opening in the foliage, and having no fancy to hold nearer converse with him, the creature moved slowly away. His quick and practised eye caught a view of it through the opening, as it was going away up the hill, as it happened, in a direct line. Well experienced in woodcraft, he, in a loud voice, called out “hah!” As is common with red deer when in the woods, the hart made a sudden halt, and wheeled half round to listen, and in this way he placed his broadside to the hunter’s eye. This was butfor an instant, to be sure; but in that instant Patrick Stewart’s arrow, passing through the break in the foliage of the pine, fixed itself deep into the shoulder of the hart.“Clumsily done!” exclaimed Patrick Stewart from very vexation as he saw the hart bound off. “I’ll warrant me the arrow-head is deep into his shoulder blade. One single finger’s breadth more behind it would have made him mine own, and with all the cleverness of perfect woodcraft.”Patrick, baulked and disappointed, now extended his sweep, and crossed and re-crossed the ground, with the hope of meeting his brother Sir Walter; but as he did not succeed in falling in with him, he followed the track of the hart for some distance up the hill, until he lost every trace of his slot upon the dry summit, after which he returned with all manner of haste to make his way downwards to the party in the valley below. This he did, partly with the expectation of meeting his brother Sir Walter there, and partly with the intention of getting the dogs, that he might make an attempt to recoverhis wounded hart. There he found—not his brother Sir Walter—but his brother Murdoch—who stood exulting over a dead stag. He was a great hart of sixteen, just such an one as he himself had been after.“Thou see’st that I have the luck,” said Murdoch Stewart triumphantly.“Whence camest thou, Murdoch? and how comes this?” demanded Patrick.“All naturally enough, brother,” replied Murdoch Stewart carelessly. “As I was wandering idly on the hill-side above there, I espied the people here below, so I came sauntering down to see what they were about, and to hear news of ye all. But, as my luck would have it, I had hardly been with them the pattering of a paternoster, when the very hart that thou wentest after came bang down upon me—my shaft fled—and there he lies. Mark now, brother, is he not well and cleanly killed? Observe—right through the neck you see. But, ha!—it would seem that thou hast spent an arrow too—for these fellows tell me that thou tookest threewith thee, and methinks thou hast but twain left in thy belt.”“I used one against the hart I went after,” said Patrick coldly.“And missed him, brother—is’t not so?” said Murdoch laughing. “Well, I never hoped that I should live to wipe thine eye in any such fashion; for these varlets all say that this is the very hart that thou went’st after.”“Nay, then,” replied Patrick with an air of indifference; “if this be the hart I went after, I must have found another great hart of sixteen the very marrow of him; and him I have so marked, that I’ll be sworn he will be known again; for I promise you that at this moment he beareth wood on his shoulder as well as on his head.”“The hart thou sayest that thou sawest may be like Saint Hubert’s stag for aught I know,” said Murdoch; “but it is clear, from all that these fellows say, that there lies the very hart that thou went’st forth to kill, and that is no arrow of thine that hath fixed itself in his gullet.”“I did see a hart—draw my bow at a hart—and sorely wound a hart,” said Patrick, rather testily; “and were it not that the scent is cold, and the hour so late, I think that the sleuth-hounds there, would soon help me to prove to thee that he is as fine a hart of sixteen as this which thou hast slain.”“Cry your mercy, brother,” said Murdoch; “I knew not that such great harts of sixteen had been so rife hereabouts, as that one should start up as a butt for thine arrow the moment that the other had been lost to thee. Yet it is clear that thou hast spent an arrow upon something.—Ha!—by the way—where is our brother Walter? They tell me that he went up the hill-side with thee.”“After seeking for him on the hill-side in vain, I reckoned on finding him here,” replied Patrick. “But if he be within a mile of us I’ll make him answer.”He put his bugle to his lips, and awakened the echoes, with such sounds as were understood between Sir Walter and himself; but the echoes alone replied to him.“He may have met with a deer which mayhave led him off in pursuit over the hill,” said Patrick.“Aye,” said Murdoch; “he may have fallen in with your hart of sixteen—yea, or another, for aught I know, seeing that harts of sixteen are now so rife on these hills.”“Fall in with what he might, he is not the man to give up his game easily,” said Patrick, somewhat keenly.“Whatever may have befallen him,” said Murdoch, “we can hardly hope to see him hereabouts to-night.”“I hope we may see him at Drummin,” said Patrick; “for as the night is now drooping down so fast, he will most readily seek the straightest way thither. So, as thou hast now made sure of a great hart of sixteen for Sir Allan, we may as well turn our steps thitherward without more delay.”On reaching Drummin, Patrick Stewart’s first inquiry was for his brother Sir Walter. He had not returned home; but it was yet early in the night, and he might have been led away to such a distance as to require the greater part ofthe night to bring him home. The hart was borne up to the hall in triumph, and exhibited before Sir Allan, with the arrow still sticking in his neck. The old man’s countenance was filled with joy and exultation when he beheld it. The Lady Stradawn could not contain her triumph.“So, Murdoch,” said she, “thou art the lucky man who hath killed the much longed for venison! Thou art the lucky man who hath brought thy father the food for which his soul so yearneth! There is something of good omen for thee in this, my boy!”“A noble head!—a great hart of sixteen, indeed,” said Sir Allan. “Aye, aye, that is a head, that is a head indeed! Yet have I slain many as fine in my time. Aye, aye,—but those days are gone; och, hey! gone indeed. See what a cuach his horn hath. Yet that which I slew up at Loch Aven had a bigger cuach than this one by a great deal. As I live, you might have slaked your thirst from the hollow of it the drowthiest day you ever saw. Yet this is a good hart—a noble hart of sixteen,—aye, aye! hoch-hey! But, hey! what’s this? A goose-winged shaft?Did I not tell ye that my dream spake of an eagle’s wing? His heart will be naught after all—naught, naught—och, hey! och, hey!”

With a view of multiplying the chances which might still remain of effecting the anxious object of his expedition, Patrick Stewart had no sooner started again from the heather where they had been seated, than he subdivided his party into several sections, under certain intelligent leaders, and having given to each of them such instructions as he deemed necessary for their guidance, he sent them off in different directions, with orders to meet together again, by nightfall, at the ravine of Cuachan-Seirceag. There they were all to wait till he should join them, unless in the event of the Lady Catherinebeing recovered by any of them, in which case they were to proceed in a body, without tarrying, to carry her straight to Curgarf, leaving one of their number behind them to certify him of the agreeable intelligence. For his own part, he took with him a single attendant only, one of the Curgarf retainers, called Michael Forbes, with whose superior sagacity and activity, some former circumstances had led him to be more particularly acquainted.

After all the others had left them, Patrick and his companion began a most particular and persevering search through the forest, and among the mountains, of that part of the country which he had especially marked out and reserved for himself, leaving no spot unexplored that had any thing the least suspicious connected with it. But the wilderness through which they wandered was so wide, and, in many places, so very thickly wooded, that they might have been employed for days in the same way, without his being one whit nearer his object. It is not wonderful, then, that the evening began to manifest its approach, whilst he wasyet actively engaged in laborious travel, yet still he bore on with unremitting exertion, altogether unconscious of the wane of day.

The wild scenery by which he was surrounded was beginning to grow dim in the increasing obscurity, when he arrived at the edge of a deep corry or ravine, in the steeply inclined side of a mountain. It was a place, of the existence of which, neither he nor his companion had ever been aware, well as they were both acquainted with the mountains. The precise position of it has been long ago forgotten; and indeed, if it could be guessed at, it is probably now so altered, and blocked up, by the fall of the mountain masses from time to time, as to be no longer in such a state as might admit of its being identified. But it was one of those rugged places of which there are plenty of examples among these mountains. The elevation on the mountain side was not greater than to have allowed Nature, at that time, to have carried the forest partially up around it, and the wood, that in a great measure concealed it, was chiefly composed of the mountain pine. The trees,which were seen struggling against the wintry tempests that prevailed around the summits of the cliffs above, appeared twisted and stunted, yet they grew thickly and sturdily together, as if resolved, like bold Highlanders in possession of a dangerous post, to put shoulder to shoulder for the determined purpose of maintaining their position, in defiance of the raging elements. Their foliage was shorn, not thinned by the blast. On the contrary, it was thickened by it, from that very clipping to which the storms so continually subjected it, so that the shade which was formed by their tops overhead, was thereby rendered just so much the more dense and impenetrable. The narrow and inclined bottom of the immense gully below, was composed of enormous fragments, which had been wedged out by time and frosts from the faces of the overhanging crags, and piled one over the other to an unknown depth, whilst the ground, that sloped rapidly down into it, from the lower part of the abrupt faces of the precipices on either side, was covered with smaller and lighter materials of the same sort, mingled with a certainproportion of soil. There some scattered trees had been enabled to grow to a huge size, from the uninterrupted shelter which the place afforded; but whilst few of these had altogether escaped injury and mutilation from the frequent descent of the stony masses, many of them had been entirely uprooted and overturned, by the immense magnitude of some of those falling rocks which had swept down upon them, and there lay their enormous trunks, resting upon their larger limbs, or upon one another, the whole being tossed and tumbled together in most intricate confusion, so as to cover the rocky fragments beneath them, with one continued and almost impervious naturalchevaux-de-frize.

Patrick Stewart halted behind the bole of a tree, and, resting against it, so as to enable him to lean forward over the precipice, he surveyed the gulf below, as accurately as the evening twilight, and the intervening obstacles permitted him to do. He and Michael Forbes then stole slowly and silently along the very verge of it, in that direction that lay down the mountain side, using their eyes sharply andearnestly as they went, and peering anxiously everywhere, with the hope of discovering some track which might tend downwards into the ravine. While so occupied, Patrick became suddenly sensible of the fresh smell of wood smoke. From the manner in which it was necessarily diffused, by the multiplied network of boughs through which it had to ascend, he looked for it in vain for some time, till he accidentally observed one or two bright fiery sparks mount upwards from below, such as may be often seen to arise from a cottage chimney top, when new fuel has been thrown upon the fire by the people within. Marking, with great attention, the spot whence these had proceeded, he commenced a more narrow examination of the edge of the ravine, until he at length discovered a perforation in the brushwood, so small, that it might have been easily mistaken for the avenue leading to the den of some wild beast, but which, a closer inspection persuaded him, might have been used by human creatures, there being quite enough of room for one man at a time to creep through it in astooping posture. At all events he was resolved to explore it, and accordingly, having first stationed his attendant, Michael Forbes, in a concealed place, near to its entrance, that he might watch and give him warning if any one approached from without, he bent himself down, and began his strange and hazardous enterprise.

Creeping along, with his bonnet off, and almost on his hands and knees, he found that the track, which inclined gently at first over the rounded edge of the ravine, became, as he proceeded, nearly as steep as an upright ladder, but it was less encumbered with branches than the first part of the way had been, though there was still enough of growth to aid him in his descent, and to take away all appearance of danger. It went diagonally down the face of the cliff, dropping from one narrow ledge of footing in the rock, to that beneath it, with considerable intervals between each. But to one accustomed, as Patrick Stewart was, to scramble like a goat, the difficulties it presented were as nothing. All his anxiety and care was exertedto guard, if possible, against surprise, as well as against making any noise that might betray his approach, to any one who might be harboured in the ravine below.

Having at last got to the foot of the precipice, he found it somewhat easier to descend the rugged slope that inclined downwards from its base, and, upon reaching the bottom, he discovered that the track continued to lead onwards under the arched limbs of an overthrown pine, the smaller branches and spray of which, appeared, on a minute examination, to have been evidently broken away by frequent passage through underneath it. This circumstance he had some difficulty in discovering, as the increasing darkness was rendered deeper here, by the overhanging shade of the rocks and trees high above him. Bending beneath the boughs of the fir, he advanced with yet greater caution, and with some difficulty, over the rugged and angular fragments, until he suddenly observed something, that made it prudent for him to halt for a moment, that he might well consider his position. This abrupt stop was occasioned by hisobserving a faint gleam of light, that partially illumined the broad side, and moss-grown edge, of a large mass of stone, a little way in advance of the place where he then was. He hardly breathed, and he tried to listen—and, for a moment, he fancied he heard a murmur like that of human voices. Again he stretched his ear, and again he felt persuaded that he heard the sound of the voices coming hollow on his ear, as if from some cavity, somewhere below the surface, at a little distance beyond him. Resolving at last to proceed, he moved on gently, and upon a nearer approach to the great stone, on the broad edge of which the light fell, he found that it formed one side of a natural entrance to a passage, that led upwards under the enormous superincumbent masses, that had been piled up over it, in their fall from the shattered crags above. Pausing again for a moment, he drew himself up behind a projecting part of another huge stone, that formed the dark side of the entrance, that he might again listen. He was now certain that he distinctly heard voices proceeding from within, though he was not yet nearenough to the speakers to be able to make out their words. The smell of the wood smoke was exceedingly powerful, and his heart began to beat high, for he was now convinced that his adventure was drawing to a crisis.

He plucked forth his dirk, and stooped to enter the place. He found the passage to be low, narrow, gently ascending, and running somewhat in an oblique direction, from the illuminated stone at the mouth, for a few paces inwards, till it met with another block of great size. The edges of this block glowed with a brighter light, that seemed to come directly upon it, at a right angle, from some fire, not then visible, but which was evidently blazing within, and which was again reflected from the side of this stone towards that of the stone at the entrance.

Having crept onwards to this second fragment of rock, where the passage took its new direction, he discovered that it led into a large, and very irregularly-shaped chamber, which was within a few feet only of the spot which he had now reached, but he had no accurate means of judging of the full extent of the cavern. He couldnow see the rousing fire that was burning in a recess, in the side of the rocky wall of the place, the smoke from which seemed to find its way upwards, through some natural crevice immediately over it, for the interior of this subterranean den was by no means obscured by any great accumulation of it. By the light of the fire, one or two dark holes were seen, apparently forming low passages of connection with other chambers. How many living beings the place might then contain, he had no means of knowing or guessing. All that came within the field of his vision were two persons, which he supposed were those whose voices he had heard. One of these was a slim youth, who was employed in feeding the fire from time to time with pieces of rotten wood and branches, and in attending to a large pot, that hung over it by an iron chain, depending from a strong hook fastened in the rock above. But the youth and his occupations were altogether disregarded by Patrick Stewart, in the intense interest and delight which he experienced in beholding the Lady Catherine Forbes, the fair object of his toilsome search, who sat pensivelyand in tears, on a bundle of heather on the farther side of the fire.

You will easily believe, gentlemen, that it was difficult for him to subdue his impatient feelings, so far as to restrain himself from at once rushing forward to snatch her to his arms. But prudence whispered him that her safety might depend on the caution he should use. Ignorant as he was of the extent of the subterranean den, or how it might be tenanted, he felt the necessity of exerting his self-command, and to remain quietly where he was for a little time, until he might be enabled to form some judgment, from what he should see and hear, as to the probable force he should have to contend with, as well as to determine what might be his best plan of action.

“If thou wouldst but listen to my entreaty,” said Catherine Forbes, addressing the youth in an earnest tone of supplication, whilst the tears that ran down her cheeks roused Patrick’s feelings to an agonizing pitch of intensity—“If thou wouldst but fly with me, and take me toCurgarf, my father would give thee gold enough to enrich thee and thine for all thy life.”

“I tell thee again that it is useless to talk of it, lady,” replied the youth. “I have already told thee that I pity thee, but it were more than my life were worth to do as thou wouldst have me. And what is gold, I pray thee, compared to such a risk?”

“Methinks that, once out amidst these wide hills and forests, the risk would be but small indeed,” said Catherine.

“That is all true,” replied the youth. “The hills and forests are wide; but the men of the band well know every nook and turn of them. Nay, they are every where, and come pop upon one at the very time when they are least looked for. Holy Virgin, an’ we were to meet any of them as we fled!—My head sits uneasily on my neck at the very thought!—By the Rood, but there would be a speedy divorce between them! and where would your gold be then, lady?”

“Then let me go try to explore mine own way without thee,” said the Lady Catherine.

“Talk not of it, lady,” replied the youth, impatiently. “My head would go for it, I tell thee.—It would go the moment they should return and find that thou hadst escaped. They may be already near at hand, too, if I mistake not the time of evening. Therefore, teaze me no more, I pray thee.”

“Spirits of mine ancestors, give me strength and boldness!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up energetically, after a moment’s pause, during which she seemed to have taken her resolution, and assuming a commanding attitude and air as she spoke.—“Let me pass, young man!—give me way, I say!—or I will struggle with thee to the death, but I will force a passage!”

“I have a sharp argument against that,” said the youth, drawing his dirk, and planting himself in the gap before her.—“Stand back!—or thou shalt have every inch of its blade.”

“Out of the way, vermin!” cried Patrick Stewart, no longer able to contain his rage, and dashing down the youth before him as he entered.

“Patrick!—my dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, flying into his arms with a scream of joy.

“My dearest, dearest Catherine!” said Patrick, fondly—“this is indeed to be rewarded!—Wretch!” cried he, grappling the youth by the throat, and putting the point of his dirk to his breast, as he was in the act of rising from the ground, apparently with the intention of making his escape—“Wretch! our safety requires thy death.”

“Oh, do not kill me, good Sir Knight!” cried the terrified youth piteously, and with a countenance as pale as a corpse.

“Spare him!—spare him!” cried Catherine,—“his worthless life is unworthy of thy blade.”

“Oh, mercy, mercy!” cried the youth again.—“Spare me!—spare me!—oh, do not kill me!”

“If I did kill thee, it would be no more than what thou hast well merited,” said Patrick.—“But, as thou sayest, Catherine, my love, such worthless blood should never wantonly soil the steel of a brave man; and if I could but makehim secure by any other means, I should be better contented.”

“Bind me, if thou wilt, Sir Knight; but, oh, do not!—do not kill me!” cried the youth.

“Well then, I will spare thy life, though I half question the wisdom of so doing,” said Patrick.

Casting his eyes around the cave, he espied some ropes lying in a dark corner. Catherine flew and brought them to him. He seized them, and quickly bound the youth neck and heel, in such a manner as to make it quite impossible for him to move body or limb, and then, lifting him in his arms, he groped his way with him into the farther end of one of those dark recesses that branched off from the main cavern, and there he deposited him.

“Now, let us fly, my love!” cried he, hastily returning to the Lady Catherine. “Every moment we tarry here is fraught with danger.—Follow me quickly!—I grieve to think of the fatigue you must undergo. But cheer up, and trust for your defence, from all danger, to this good arm of mine. Above all things, be silent.”

“With thee as my protector I am strong and bold,” said Catherine. “Thanks be to the Virgin for this deliverance!”

Patrick now led the Lady Catherine forth into the open air. But before he ventured to proceed, he listened for a moment to ascertain that there was no one near. To his great horror, and to the lady’s death-like alarm, they distinctly heard a footstep slowly and cautiously approaching. Pushing Catherine gently behind the dark mass of stone at the entrance, he placed himself before her in the shadow, that, whilst concealed by it himself, he might have a perfect view of whosoever came, the moment the person should advance into the light, that was reflected on the wall-like side of the rocky mass opposite to him, and fell on the ground for a little space beyond it. He listened, with attention so breathless, that he seemed to hear every beat of his own heart, as well as of that of his trembling companion. The footstep was that of one person only, and he felt as if his resolution was quite equal to an encounter with a dozen; but he knewnot how many might be following, and he was fully conscious of the importance, as regarded the lady, of avoiding a conflict, unless rendered indispensable by circumstances. The step came on, falling gently, at intervals of several moments, as if the individual who approached was unwilling to make the least unnecessary noise. The dim figure of a man at length appeared, under the arched boughs of the fallen pine tree. He advanced, step by step, with increased caution. A dirk blade, which he held forward in his outstretched hand, first caught the stream of reflected light that came from the mouth of the cavern. The next step that the figure took brought his face under its influence; and, to the great relief of Patrick Stewart, displayed the features of Michael Forbes. Patrick gave a low whistle. Michael had at that moment stopped to listen, with a strange expression of dread and horror, to the complaints of the youth who was bound in the innermost recesses of the cavern, whence they came, reduced by its sinuosities, into a low wild moaning sound, that hadsomething supernatural in it, so as to be quite enough to appal any superstitious mind. The whistle startled him.

“Michael!” said Patrick in a low tone of voice, “why did’st thou desert thy post?”

“Holy virgin, is that you, Sir Knight?” said Michael, in a voice which seemed to convey a doubt whether he was not holding converse with a spirit.

“What could make you desert your post?” demanded Patrick, angrily, and at the same time showing himself.

“Holy saints, I am glad that it is really you, Sir Knight,” replied Michael. “I crave your pardon, but your long delay led me to fear that something had befallen you, and that you might lack mine aid.”

“Had an accident befallen me, Michael,” said Patrick, “thine aid, I fear, would have been of little avail. But we have lost much time by this thy neglect of mine orders. Quick! let us lose no more, and give me thy best help to aid thy mistress, the Lady Catherine.”

“The Virgin be praised!” exclaimed Michael, as Catherine appeared; “then the lady is safe!”

“But so for only,” replied Patrick Stewart. “We have yet much peril to encounter; but our perils are increased every precious moment that we loiter here. Get thee on quickly before us to the top of the path where it quits the ravine,—the spot, I mean, where I left thee, and see that you be sure to give me good warning, shouldst thou see or hear any thing to cause alarm.”

Michael obeyed; and Patrick, having led Catherine out from under the boughs of the fallen pine, began to assist her in ascending the path. He had some difficulty in dragging her up the wild-cat’s ladder that scaled the side of the cliff; but, by the assistance of his strongly nerved arm, she reached the summit without danger. She then forced her way through the narrow passage in the brushwood that grew over the top of the crags, until she had at length the satisfaction of being able to stand erect, to receive the cooling mountain breeze on her flushed cheek and throbbing temples. Butthis was no place for them to rest. Patrick whistled softly, and Michael appeared.

“Catherine, my love,” said he, “this is no time for ceremony. Give one arm to Michael, and put the other firmly into mine—so. Now take the best care you can of your footing, and lean well upon me as we go down the mountain side. Oh, how I long to talk to thee! But, dearest, we must be silent as death, for we know not whom we may meet.”

After a long, rough, and slippery descent, they came at length into a narrow glen, where the trees grew taller and farther apart from each other. This was so far fortunate for them; for as the shadows of night became deeper here than they had been on the mountain side, they were compelled to move slower; and it required all the care of the Lady Catherine’s supporters, to save her from the injuries she might have sustained from the numerous fallen branches, and other obstacles lying in their way.

They had nearly reached the lower extremity of this lesser tributary glen, where it discharged a small rill into the wider glen and stream ofthe Aven, when Patrick Stewart suddenly halted.

“Stop!” cried he; “I hear voices on the breeze, and they come this way too. We must up the bank, Michael. Courage, my dearest Catherine! let me help thee to climb. Trust me love, thou hast nothing to fear.”

“I fear nothing whilst thou art by my side,” replied Catherine, exerting herself to the utmost.

“Now,” said Patrick, after they had half carried her some thirty or forty paces up the steep slope; “we have time to go no farther. Hark! they come! Stretch thyself at length among this long heather, Catherine, and let me throw my plaid over thee. Nay, now I think on’t, Michael’s green one is better, the red of mine might be more visible. There; that will do. Now, Michael, draw thy good claymore, as I do mine. Here are two thick trunks which stand well placed in front of us. Do thou take thy stand behind that one, whilst I post myself behind this, so that both of us may be between the lady and danger. They cannot come at her but by passing between us. Andif they do! But see that thou dost not strike till I give thee the word. Hush! they come!”

They had hardly thus disposed of themselves, when the voices drew nearer, and the dusky figures were obscurely seen moving up the bottom of the little glen. They came loitering on, one after another, in what we of the army used to call Indian files,—man following man along the track, where they knew that the footing was likely to be the best. This plan of march necessarily made them longer of passing by, but it relieved those who were lurking in the bank above from any great fear of being discovered by any stray straggler. Two individuals of the party, who had probably some sort of command over the rest, were considerably in advance. These lingered on their way, and halted more than once to give time for those that followed to come up, so that Patrick Stewart caught a sentence or two of the conversation that fell from them.

“He must be as cunning as the devil,” said one of them to the other, in Gaelic.

“Thou knowest that she has not yet seenhis face,” replied the other; “so that, when he comes to act the part of her deliverer, she will never suspect that it was to him she was indebted for her unwilling travel last night, and her present confinement. And then, you see, he thinks, in this way, to make his own, both of her and her old father, by his pretended gallantry in rescuing her from——”

Patrick Stewart in vain stretched his ears to catch more, for on came the rest in closer lines, gabbling together so loudly about trifles, and with voices so commingled, that it was not possible to gather the least sense out of their talk. These all passed onwards; and, a little way behind them, came four other men, who walked very slowly, and stopped occasionally to converse in Gaelic, like people, who were so travel-worn, that they were not sorry to halt now and then, and to rest against a tree for a few moments.

“What made Grigor Beg stop behind Allister?” demanded one.

“Hoo! you may well guess it was nothing but his old trick,” replied the other. “The boddoch would have fain had me to tarry forhim, that I might help him, by carrying a part of what load he might get. But I was no such fool. My shoulders ache enough already with carrying the rough rungs of that accursed litter last night, to let me wish for any new burden.”

“If thou hadst not been carrying the bonny lassie for another’s pleasure, methinks you would maybe have thought less of it,” said a third man.

Whilst attentively listening to this dialogue, Patrick Stewart observed some ill-defined object, coming stealing up the slope of the bank, in a diagonal line, from the place a little way down the glen, where the four men had halted. It came on noiselessly, but steadily pointing towards the spot where Catherine lay. It stopped, and uttered a short bark, and Patrick now saw that it was a large, rough, Highland wolf-dog. Again, with its long snout directed towards the plaid that covered Catherine, it barked and snarled.

“Dermot, boy!—Dermot!”—cried one of the men from the hollow below.—“What hast thou got there?”

As if encouraged by its master’s voice, the animal barked and snarled again yet more eagerly, and seemed to be on the very eve of springing upon the plaid. The blade of Patrick Stewart’s claymore made one swift circuit in the air, and, descending like a flash of lightning on the neck of the creature, his head and his body rolled asunder into different parts of the heather, and again Patrick took his silent but determined stand behind the tree.

“Dermot!—Dermot, boy!”—cried the man again from below.—“What think ye is the beast at, lads?”

“Some foulmart or badger it may be,” replied another.

“Can’st thou not go up and see, man?” said a third.

“Go thyself, my good man,” said the dog’s master.—“I am fond enough of the dog—aye, and, for that part, I am fond enough of travel too, but I am content with my share of fagg for this day without going up the brae there to seek for more. A man may e’en have his serving of the best haggis that ever came out of a pot.Trust me, I am for going no foot to-night beyond what I can help.—Dermot—Dermot, boy!—See ye any thing of him at all, lads?”

“The last sight that I had of him at all, was near yon dark looking hillock, a good way up the bank yonder,” said another man.

“I’m thinking that the brute has winded a passing roebuck,” said the fourth man, “I thought I saw something like a glimmer just against the light cloud yonder above, as if it had been the dog darting over the height, the very moment after the last bark he gave.”

“Dermot! whif-hoo-if!” cried the dog’s master, and, at the same time, whistling shrilly upon his fingers. “Tut! the fiend catch him for me! let him go! I’ll be bound that he’ll be home before us.”

“Come, then, let’s on!” said another, “I wonder much that Grigor Beg hath not come up with us ere this.”

“Hulloah, Grigor!” shouted one of them. “No, no, we’ll not see him so soon, I’ll warrant ye.”

“Come! come away, lads!” said another,moving on with the rest following him. “I’ll be bound that the boddoch hath got a swingeing load upon his back.”

“Awell!” said one of the first speakers, “rather him than me. But we shan’t be the worse of it when it’s well broiled, for all that. I’m sure I wish I had a bit of it at this moment, for I’m famishing. I’m dead tired to-night; I hope that we may have some rest to-morrow. Know ye aught that is to do?”

“I heard the Captain say that”——but the rest of the dialogue was cut off by the distance which the men had by this time reached.

“Thanks be to St. Peter, they are gone at last!” said Patrick Stewart. “How my fingers itched to have a cut at the villains.—Catherine,” continued he, lifting the plaid, and assisting her to rise, “art thou not half dead with terror? But courage, my love. There lies the murderous four-footed savage, whose fell fangs had so nearly been busied with the plaid that covered thee. If we may trust to what we have just heard, there is but one manto come; and, judging by the name of Beg1which they gave him, he ought to be no very formidable person. Michael, get thee on a few steps in front, and keep a good look out for him. Were we but out of this narrow place, and fairly into the wider glen of the Aven, we should have less to fear, and then we shall find means to carry thee.”

“Thanks to the Virgin, I am yet strong,” said Catherine. “Let us fly, then, with all speed.”

A farther walk, of a few minutes only, brought them into Glen Aven, and they pursued its downward course, for a considerable length of way, until Patrick Stewart began to perceive something like fatigue in the Lady Catherine’s step. He therefore halted, and made her sit down to rest a while. In the mean time, he and Michael Forbes contrived to hew down two small sapling fir trees, by the aid of their good claymores, and having tied their plaids between them,they, in this manner, very speedily constructed a tolerably easy litter for the lady to recline at length in. This they carried between them, by resting the ends of the poles upon their shoulders, Patrick making Michael Forbes go foremost, and reserving the place behind for himself. I need hardly tell you that the Stewart especially selected that position, for the obvious reason that he might be thereby enabled to cheer the Lady Catherine’s spirits, and to lighten her fatigues, by now and then addressing a word or two of comfort to her as they went. In this manner they pursued their way down the glen, until the loud roar of many waters informed them that they were approaching the grand waterfall, called the Lynn of Aven. You will have ample opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with all the details of this fine scene, gentlemen, as you go up the glen to-morrow. But in the meanwhile, I may tell you generally, that the whole of this large river, there precipitates itself headlong, through a comparatively narrow chasm in the rocks, into a long, wide, and extremely deep pool below.

The sound increased as the bearers of the litter drew nearer to the waterfall, and the rocky and confined passage, over which they had to make their way, compelled them to walk at greater leisure, and to select their footing with more caution. Fortunately they had now the advantage of the moon, which had been for some time shining favourably upon them, and they were already within a very few steps of coming immediately over the waterfall, when they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful and most unearthly shriek. It came apparently from the very midst of the descending column of water below them.

“Holy Virgin Mother!” cried Michael Forbes, halting, and backing like a restive horse, so unexpectedly, that the ends of the poles were nearly jerked from Patrick Stewart’s shoulders, by the shock which was thus communicated to them. “Holy Mother, didst thou not hear that, Sir Knight?”

“I did hear something,” said Stewart, not quite willing to increase that dread which he perceived was already quite sufficiently excitedin his companion, and of which he could not altogether divest himself. “I did fancy that I heard something. But for the love of the Virgin take care what thou dost. Thou hadst almost shaken the poles from my shoulders by thy sudden start.—Come! proceed man!”

Again, a louder, and more appalling shriek arose from the midst of the cataract, piercing their ears above all the roaring of its thunder.

“For the love of all the saints, let us turn back, Sir Knight!” cried Michael. “It is the water-kelpie himself!”

“Nay,” said Patrick Stewart; “back we may not go, without the risk of falling again into the very jaws of the Catteranes. They are no doubt hard on foot after us by this time.—Forward then, and fear not!”

Again came the wild shriek, if possible louder and more terrible than before.

“For the love of God, Sir Knight, back!” cried Michael, now losing all command of himself, and forcing the litter so backwards upon Patrick Stewart, as to compel him, from the narrowness of the rocky shelf where they thenstood, to retreat in a corresponding degree, to avoid the certain alternative of being precipitated over the giddy ledge into the boiling stream of the Aven. “For the love of God, back, I say! were it but for a few paces, till we have leisure to lay down our burden, and cross ourselves.”

“Merciful saints! what will become of us?” cried the Lady Catherine, in great alarm.

“Now,” said Patrick Stewart, after yielding a few steps, “now, we may surely halt here till thy courage return to thee, Michael. What a fiend hath so unmanned thee to-night? I thought thou hadst been brave as a lion.”

“A fiend indeed, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, as they were laying down the litter; “I trust that I lack not courage, at any time, to face any mortal foe that ever came before me. But,” added he, eagerly crossing himself, “to meet with the devil thus in one’s very path!—Good angels be about us, heard ye not that scream again? Have mercy upon us all!”

“There is something very strange in this,” said Patrick Stewart. “But this will neverdo. We cannot tarry here long without the certainty of being overtaken by the whole body of the Catteranes. By this time they must be well on their way in pursuit of us.”

“Holy Virgin! what will become of us if we should fall into their hands?” cried the Lady Catherine, in an agony of distress.

“Fear not, my love!” said Patrick Stewart; “I will forthwith fathom this mystery. I will see whence these horrible screams proceed.”

“Nay, Sir Patrick, tempt not thy fate,” cried Michael. “If thou dost, thou goest to thy certain destruction.”

“Oh stir not, dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up from the litter, and endeavouring to detain him. “Do not attempt so great, so dreadful a danger.”

“Catherine, my dearest!” said Patrick, fondly taking her hands in his; “listen to reason, I entreat thee. The danger that presses on us from behind is imminent, and more than what two swords, good as they may be, could by any means save thee from. And since God hath given us strength to flee from it, he willnot forsake me in a conflict with the powers of hell, should they stand in my way. I go forward in his holy name, then; have no fear for me therefore. Rest thine arm upon Michael, dearest—tell thy beads, and may the blessed Virgin hover over thee to protect thee! As for you, Michael, draw your claymore, and stir not a step from the lady till I call thee.”

Patrick Stewart now crossed himself, and then strode, slowly and resolutely, along the narrow ledge of rock towards the roaring lynn, repeating a paternoster as he went. The moon was by this time high in the heavens, and its beams produced a faint tinge of the rainbow’s hues, as they played among the mists that arose from the waterfall. The shrieks that came from below were now loud and incessant, and might have quailed the stoutest heart. But still Patrick advanced firmly, till he stood upon a shelving rock, forming the very verge of the roaring cataract, whence he could throw his eyes directly downwards, through the shooting foam, into the abyss below. Far down, in the midst of the rising vapour, and apparently suspendedin it, close by the edge of the descending column of water, he could distinguish a dark object. New and more piercing screams arose from it. He bent forward, and looked yet more intently. To his no inconsiderable dismay, he beheld a fearful head rear itself, as it were from out of it; the long hair by which it was covered, and the immense beard that flowed from the chin, hanging down, drenched by the surrounding moisture, and the eyes glaring fearfully in the moonlight, whilst the terrific screams were inconceivably augmented. Appalled as he was by this most unaccountable apparition, Patrick was shifting his position, in order to lean yet more forward, that he might the better contemplate it, when the toe of his sandal grazed against something that had nearly destroyed his equilibrium, and sent him headlong over the rock. Having, with some difficulty, recovered himself, he stooped down to ascertain what had tripped him, when he found, to his surprise, that it was a rope. He now remembered, that the feudal tenant of the neighbouring ground, who owed service to hisfather, Sir Allan, was accustomed to hang a conical creel, or large rude basket, by the edge of the fall, for the purpose of catching the salmon that fell into it, after failing in their vain attempts to leap up.

“Ho, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, in that voice of thunder, which he required to exert in order to overcome the continuous roar of the cataract.

“Oh, help! help! help!” cried the fearful head from below.

“Man or demon, I will see what thou art!” cried Patrick, stooping down to lay hold of the rope, with the intention of making an attempt to pull up the creel.

“For the love of Saint Andrew, lay not a hand on the rope, Sir Knight, as thou may’st value thy life!” said Michael Forbes, who, having heard Patrick’s loud shout, had been hurried off to his aid by the fears and the commands of the Lady Catherine.

“Why hast thou left the lady, caitiff?” demanded Patrick Stewart, angrily. “Did I not tell thee to stay with her till I should call thee?”

“We heard thee call loudly, Sir Knight,” replied Michael, trembling more from his proximity to the place whence the screams had issued, than from any thing that Patrick had said.

“True, I had forgotten,” replied Patrick; “I did call, though not on thee. But since thou art here, come lend me thy hand to pull up the basket.”

“Nay, Sir Knight; surely thou art demented by devilish influence. For the love of all the saints!” cried Michael, quaking from head to foot; “for the love of ——”

“Dastard, obey my command, or I will hurl thee over the rock!” cried Patrick furiously, and with a manner that showed Michael that it was time to obey. “Now, pull—pull steadily and firmly; pull away, I say!”

“Have mercy on us! have mercy on our souls!” cried Michael, pulling most unwillingly.

“What a fiend are you afraid of? Why don’t you pull, I say?” cried the Knight again.

“Jesu Maria protect me! that I should have a hand in any such work!” muttered Michael. “Oh holy Virgin! to have thus to deal with the Devil himself!”

“Come! pull!—pull away, I tell ye—pull! aye, there!” cried Patrick Stewart, as the basket at last came to the top of the rock.

“Preserve us all!” cried Michael; “the water-kelpie, sure enough! Mercy on us, what a fearful red beard! what terrible fiery eyes! For the love of heaven, Sir Knight, let him down again!”

“Coward!” cried Patrick, “if you let go the rope, I’ll massacre thee! Now, do you hear? pull the creel well out this way.—Ha, that will do!—Now I think it is safe.”

“Oh, may the blessed saints reward thee!” said a little shred of a man, who now arose, shaking in a palsy of cold and wet, from the midst of at least a dozen large salmon, with which the creel was heaped up; “Thou hast saved me from the most dreadful of deaths.”

“How camest thou there?” demanded Patrick Stewart; “answer quickly, for we are in haste.”

“Oh, I know not well how I got there,” said the little man, shivering so that he could hardly speak. “I stept aside from the path, just totake a look down to see if there were any salmon in the creel, when something took my foot, and over I went. Oh, what a providence it was that ye came by! Another hour, and I must have been dead from cold and wet, and buried in salmon, for they were flying in upon me like so many swallows. I thought they would have choked me.”

“Here,” said Patrick Stewart, taking out a flask, “take a sup of this cordial; it will speedily restore thee.”

“Oh, blessings on thee, Sir Knight!” said the little man; “I will drink thy health with good will. But tell me thy name, I pray thee, that I may know, and never forget, who it was that saved my life.”

“I am Patrick Stewart of Clan-Allan,” replied the knight carelessly. “Come now, Michael, we must tarry here no longer.”

“Sure I am that I shall never forget the name of Sir Patrick Stewart,” said the little man, whilst he was following them along the narrow path, as they retraced it towards the place where they had left the Lady Catherine; “and ifever I can do thee a good turn I shall do it, though it were by the sacrifice of my life.”

Catherine’s fears were soon allayed by the explanation that was given her. She was again put into the litter, which was quickly shouldered by her protectors, the little man lending them a willing helping hand; and Patrick and Michael proceeded on their way, whilst the half-drowned wretch went up the glen, pouring out blessings upon them. Without fear or interruption they now passed by the spot which had occasioned them so much dread and delay, and they soon left the roar of the lynn behind them, and at length reached the ravine of Cuachan Searceag, where, much to their relief, they found the whole of the party anxiously waiting for them. When the Forbeses beheld Patrick Stewart, and, above all, when they beheld their young mistress, the daughter of their Chief, safe and well among them, they rent the air with shouts of joy that made the whole glen ring again.

“Aye,” said Patrick Stewart, as they sat down to rest a little while, and to take some hasty refreshment, “We may now make whatnoise we list, for, if the whole gang of these accursed Catteranes should come upon us, we have brave hearts and keen claymores enow to meet them. But, for all that, we have too precious a charge with us to tarry for the mere pleasure of a conflict; so be stirring my men, and let us breast the hill as fast as may be.”

You may all well enough guess, gentlemen, how Patrick Stewart was received by the old Lord of Curgarf when he entered his hall, leading in his fair daughter safe and sound. The joy of the father was not the less, that his son, Arthur the Master of Forbes, had returned but a brief space of time before, jaded, dispirited, and sorrowful, from his long, tiresome, and fruitless expedition. Worn with anxiety, the old man had counted watch after watch of the night, and the day and the night again, until his son’s arrival, and then he had sunk into the most overwhelming despair. After pouring forth thanks to Heaven, and to all the saints, he now gave way to his joy. The midnight feast was spread, and all was revelry and gladness in the castle. Patrick Stewart was now viewed by him as his guardian angel. Seeing this, Arthur Forbestook an opportunity of advising his friend to profit by the happy circumstance which had now placed him so high in his father’s good opinion. He did so—and the result was, that he obtained the willing consent of the old Lord of Curgarf to his union with his daughter, the Lady Catherine, with the promise of a tocher which should be worthy of her.

The happiness of the lovers was now complete, and the next day was spent in open and unrestrained converse between them. The time was fixed for the wedding, and then it was, after all these arrangements had been made, that Patrick Stewart first had leisure fully torecallto mind, all those afflicting circumstances which had taken place when he last saw his brother Walter. He thought of his father—he felt the necessity of going immediately home, to relieve any anxiety which his father, Sir Allan, might have, in consequence of his unexplained absence, as well as to make him acquainted with his approaching marriage. He accordingly took a tender leave of his fair bride that evening, and, starting next morning, he made his way over the hills to Drummin.

Patrick Stewart was already within sight of home, when his attention was arrested by the blast of a bugle, which rang shrilly from the hill above him. It conveyed to him that private signal which was always used between his brother Walter and himself. For the first time in his life it grated harshly in his ear, for it immediately brought back to his recollection those oppressively painful circumstances which had occurred at Dalestie, which he had so studiously endeavoured to banish from his memory. But the strong tide of brotherly affection within him was too resistless not to sweep away every feeling connected with the past. He applied his bugle to his lips, and returned the call; and, looking up the side of the hill, he beheld Walter, and a party of the Clan-Allan, hastening down through the scattered greenwood to meet him.

“Thanks be to Heaven and good Saint Hubert that I see thee safe, my dearest Patrick,” said Sir Walter, hurrying towards him, and warmly embracing him. “Hast thou forgiven a brother’s anger and unkindness?”

“Could’st thou believe that I could for a moment remember it, my dear Walter?” replied Patrick, returning his embrace.

“Where in the name of wonder hast thou been wandering?” demanded Sir Walter. “Wherehast thou been since that night—that night of justice, yet of horror—when you disappeared so mysteriously? Since that moment, when I returned home and found thee not, I have done little else, night or day, but travel about hither and thither, anxiously seeking for tidings of thee.”

“Let us walk apart,” said Patrick in his ear, “and I will tell thee all that has befallen me.”

“Willingly,” said Sir Walter in the same tone; “for, in exculpation of myself, I would now fain pour into thy private ear all those circumstances which secretly urged me to execute that stern act of justice and necessity, which then thou could’st not comprehend, and against which thy recoiling humanity did naturally enough compel thee so urgently to protest.”

Arm in arm the two brothers then walked onalone, at such a distance before their clansmen as might insure the perfect privacy of their talk, and long ere they reached Drummin, they had fully communicated to each other all that they had mutually to impart. Old Sir Allan had been querulous and impatient about Patrick’s absence, and he had been every now and then peevishly inquiring about him. But now that his son appeared, he seemed to have forgotten that he had not been always with him. He was pleased and proud when the contemplated marriage was communicated to him, and he enjoined Sir Walter to see to it, that every thing handsome should be done on the occasion. In this respect, Sir Walter’s generosity required no stimulus; and if Patrick was dissatisfied at all, it was with the over liberality which his brother manifested, which, in some particulars, he felt inclined to resist.

“Patrick,” said Sir Walter aside to his brother, with a more than ordinarily serious air, “I give thee but thine own in advance. One day or other it will be all thine own. There is something within me that tells me that I am notlong for this world. The last words of that wretch, delivered to me, as I told thee, from the midst of those flames that consumed him, were prophetic. But, be that as it may, I have never had thoughts of marrying, and now I am firmly resolved that I never shall marry, so that thou art the sole prop of our house.”

The entrance of the retainers, and the spreading of the evening meal, put a stop to all farther conversation between the brothers. Patrick had not yet seen either the Lady Stradawn, or her son Murdoch. On inquiry, he was told that Murdoch had gone on some unknown expedition on the previous day, and that he had not yet returned. A circumstance, so common with him, excited no surprise. As for the Lady Stradawn, she now came swimming into the hall, with her countenance clothed in all its usual smiles. Her salutation to her stepsons was full of well-dissembled warmth and affection. She hastened, with her wonted affectation of fondness, to bustle about Sir Allan, with the well-feigned pretence of anxiety to attend to his wants, after which she took her place at the head of the board. It wasthen that Patrick’s eyes became suddenly fixed upon her with a degree of astonishment, which, fortunately for him, the busy occupation of every one else at the table left them no leisure to observe. To his utter amazement, he beheld in her bosom that very garnet brooch which he had given to Catherine Forbes! His first impulse was to demand from her an explanation of the circumstances by which she had become possessed of it; but a little reflection soon enabled him to control his feelings, though he continued to sit gazing at the well-known jewel, altogether forgetful of the feast, until the lady arose to retire to her chamber.

“My dearest Sir Allan,” said she, going up to the old knight’s chair to bestow her caresses on him ere she went; “My dearest Sir Allan, thou hast eaten nothing for these two days. What can I get for thee that may tickle thy palate into thy wonted appetite? Said’st thou not something of a deer’s heart, for which thou hadst a longing? ’Tis a strange fancy, I’m sure.”

“Oh, aye! very true,—a deer’s heart!” said the doting old man. “Very true, indeed, my love. I did dream—oh, aye—I dreamed, I say, Bella, that I was eating the rosten heart of a stag—of a greathart of sixteen,2killed by my boys on the hill of Dalestie—aye, aye—and with arrows feathered from an eagle’s wing. As I ate, and better ate, I always grew stronger and stronger, till at length I was able to rise from my chair as stoutly as ever I did in my life—ouch, aye! that day is gone! Yet much would I like to eat the rosten heart of a deer; but it would need to be that of a great hart of sixteen.”

“My dear father, thou shalt not want that,” said Sir Walter; “thou shalt have it ere I am a day older, if a hart of sixteen be to be found between this and Loch Aven.”

“Aye, aye, Walter boy, as thou sayest,” said the old man; “a great hart of sixteen—else hath the heart of the beast no potency in’t—aye, and killed with an arrow feathered from an eagle’s wing—och, aye—hoch-hey!”

Though the two brothers were satisfied that this was nothing but the drivelling of age, they were not the less anxiously desirous to gratify their father’s wish to the very letter. Accordingly, the necessary orders were given, and the trusty Dugald Roy3was forthwith summoned to prepare six arrows, which would have been easily supplied, with the small portions of feather which were necessary for them, from the eagle wing in Sir Walter’s bonnet. But Sir Allan stopped him as he was about to tear it off.

“What, Sir!” exclaimed the old man testily, and in a state of agitation that shook every fibre of his frame like a palsy;—“What! wouldst thou shear the eagle plume of my boy Walter, thou ill-omened bird that thou art? Yonder hangs mine; it can never more appear bearing proudly forward in the foremost shock of the battle-field. Och, hey, that is true! Take that, thou raven! Thou may’st rend it as ye list. But, my boy’s!—the proud plume of mine eldest born boy!—thou shalt never take that!”

“I crave your pardon, Sir Knight,” replied Dugald Roy; “and now I think on’t, I need not take either, for I have some spare wing feathers in my store that will do all the turn.”

The next morning saw Sir Walter and his brother Patrick early on foot, dressed in their plainest hunting attire, stretching up the valley at the head of their attendants. Each of the brothers had three of the eagle-winged arrows stuck into his belt; for, as both were dexterous marksmen, and as they had resolved to use their shafts against nothing else but a great hart of sixteen, they felt themselves to be thus most amply provided to insure success. Fortune was somewhat adverse to them, however; for although they saw deer in abundance, they found themselves in this very part of the valley, when the day was already far spent, without having once had a chance of effecting their object.

“Look ye there, brother Walter!” at length cried Patrick Stewart suddenly, as he pointed to a hart with a magnificent head, which was crossingto this side of the river, at the ford you see above yonder. “Look ye there brother! there he goes at last!”

“By the rood, but that is the very fellow we want,” replied Sir Walter. “Watch him! See!—he takes the hill aslant. He will not go far, if we may judge from his present pace.”

“I saw him walk over that open knoll in the wood high up yonder,” said Patrick, after some minutes of pause. “He has no mind to go farther than the dip of the hill above. I think that we are sure of finding him there. What say you brother?”

“Thou art right, Patrick,” said Walter. “Then do thou run on, and take the long hollow in the hill-side, beyond the big pine tree yonder. I will follow up the slack behind us here. Let your sweep be wide, that we may be sure of stalking well in beyond him, so that, if we fail of getting proper vantage of him, we may be sure that we drive him not farther a-field. Let us take no sleuth-hound, nor bratchet neither, lest, perchance, we cause himalarm. You, my merry men, will tarry here for us with the dogs.”

Off went the two brothers, each in his own direction, and each with his bow in his hand, and his three arrows in his belt. In obedience to Sir Walter’s directions, Patrick hurried away to the great pine tree, and then began his ascent through the long hollow in the woody mountain’s side with all manner of expedition. After a long and fatiguing climb, he began to use less speed and more caution, as he approached nearer to the somewhat less steep ground, where his hopes lay. Then it was that he commenced making a long sweep around, stealing silently from tree to tree, and concealing himself, as much as he could, by keeping their thick trunks before him, and creeping along among the heather, where such a precaution was necessary. Having completed his sweep to such an extent as led him to believe that he had certainly got beyond the hart, he was about to creep down the hill, in the hope of soon coming upon him, when he chanced toobserve a great uprooted pine, which lay prostrated a little way farther on, and somewhat above the spot where he then was, its head rising above the heather like a great green hillock. Thinking that he might as well have one peep beyond it before he turned downwards, and wishing to avail himself of its shade to mask his motions, he took a direct course towards it. But it so happened, that the hart had found it equally convenient for the same purpose, as well as for a place of outlook, for it had taken post close to it, on the farther side. Descrying Patrick Stewart through an accidental opening in the foliage, and having no fancy to hold nearer converse with him, the creature moved slowly away. His quick and practised eye caught a view of it through the opening, as it was going away up the hill, as it happened, in a direct line. Well experienced in woodcraft, he, in a loud voice, called out “hah!” As is common with red deer when in the woods, the hart made a sudden halt, and wheeled half round to listen, and in this way he placed his broadside to the hunter’s eye. This was butfor an instant, to be sure; but in that instant Patrick Stewart’s arrow, passing through the break in the foliage of the pine, fixed itself deep into the shoulder of the hart.

“Clumsily done!” exclaimed Patrick Stewart from very vexation as he saw the hart bound off. “I’ll warrant me the arrow-head is deep into his shoulder blade. One single finger’s breadth more behind it would have made him mine own, and with all the cleverness of perfect woodcraft.”

Patrick, baulked and disappointed, now extended his sweep, and crossed and re-crossed the ground, with the hope of meeting his brother Sir Walter; but as he did not succeed in falling in with him, he followed the track of the hart for some distance up the hill, until he lost every trace of his slot upon the dry summit, after which he returned with all manner of haste to make his way downwards to the party in the valley below. This he did, partly with the expectation of meeting his brother Sir Walter there, and partly with the intention of getting the dogs, that he might make an attempt to recoverhis wounded hart. There he found—not his brother Sir Walter—but his brother Murdoch—who stood exulting over a dead stag. He was a great hart of sixteen, just such an one as he himself had been after.

“Thou see’st that I have the luck,” said Murdoch Stewart triumphantly.

“Whence camest thou, Murdoch? and how comes this?” demanded Patrick.

“All naturally enough, brother,” replied Murdoch Stewart carelessly. “As I was wandering idly on the hill-side above there, I espied the people here below, so I came sauntering down to see what they were about, and to hear news of ye all. But, as my luck would have it, I had hardly been with them the pattering of a paternoster, when the very hart that thou wentest after came bang down upon me—my shaft fled—and there he lies. Mark now, brother, is he not well and cleanly killed? Observe—right through the neck you see. But, ha!—it would seem that thou hast spent an arrow too—for these fellows tell me that thou tookest threewith thee, and methinks thou hast but twain left in thy belt.”

“I used one against the hart I went after,” said Patrick coldly.

“And missed him, brother—is’t not so?” said Murdoch laughing. “Well, I never hoped that I should live to wipe thine eye in any such fashion; for these varlets all say that this is the very hart that thou went’st after.”

“Nay, then,” replied Patrick with an air of indifference; “if this be the hart I went after, I must have found another great hart of sixteen the very marrow of him; and him I have so marked, that I’ll be sworn he will be known again; for I promise you that at this moment he beareth wood on his shoulder as well as on his head.”

“The hart thou sayest that thou sawest may be like Saint Hubert’s stag for aught I know,” said Murdoch; “but it is clear, from all that these fellows say, that there lies the very hart that thou went’st forth to kill, and that is no arrow of thine that hath fixed itself in his gullet.”

“I did see a hart—draw my bow at a hart—and sorely wound a hart,” said Patrick, rather testily; “and were it not that the scent is cold, and the hour so late, I think that the sleuth-hounds there, would soon help me to prove to thee that he is as fine a hart of sixteen as this which thou hast slain.”

“Cry your mercy, brother,” said Murdoch; “I knew not that such great harts of sixteen had been so rife hereabouts, as that one should start up as a butt for thine arrow the moment that the other had been lost to thee. Yet it is clear that thou hast spent an arrow upon something.—Ha!—by the way—where is our brother Walter? They tell me that he went up the hill-side with thee.”

“After seeking for him on the hill-side in vain, I reckoned on finding him here,” replied Patrick. “But if he be within a mile of us I’ll make him answer.”

He put his bugle to his lips, and awakened the echoes, with such sounds as were understood between Sir Walter and himself; but the echoes alone replied to him.

“He may have met with a deer which mayhave led him off in pursuit over the hill,” said Patrick.

“Aye,” said Murdoch; “he may have fallen in with your hart of sixteen—yea, or another, for aught I know, seeing that harts of sixteen are now so rife on these hills.”

“Fall in with what he might, he is not the man to give up his game easily,” said Patrick, somewhat keenly.

“Whatever may have befallen him,” said Murdoch, “we can hardly hope to see him hereabouts to-night.”

“I hope we may see him at Drummin,” said Patrick; “for as the night is now drooping down so fast, he will most readily seek the straightest way thither. So, as thou hast now made sure of a great hart of sixteen for Sir Allan, we may as well turn our steps thitherward without more delay.”

On reaching Drummin, Patrick Stewart’s first inquiry was for his brother Sir Walter. He had not returned home; but it was yet early in the night, and he might have been led away to such a distance as to require the greater part ofthe night to bring him home. The hart was borne up to the hall in triumph, and exhibited before Sir Allan, with the arrow still sticking in his neck. The old man’s countenance was filled with joy and exultation when he beheld it. The Lady Stradawn could not contain her triumph.

“So, Murdoch,” said she, “thou art the lucky man who hath killed the much longed for venison! Thou art the lucky man who hath brought thy father the food for which his soul so yearneth! There is something of good omen for thee in this, my boy!”

“A noble head!—a great hart of sixteen, indeed,” said Sir Allan. “Aye, aye, that is a head, that is a head indeed! Yet have I slain many as fine in my time. Aye, aye,—but those days are gone; och, hey! gone indeed. See what a cuach his horn hath. Yet that which I slew up at Loch Aven had a bigger cuach than this one by a great deal. As I live, you might have slaked your thirst from the hollow of it the drowthiest day you ever saw. Yet this is a good hart—a noble hart of sixteen,—aye, aye! hoch-hey! But, hey! what’s this? A goose-winged shaft?Did I not tell ye that my dream spake of an eagle’s wing? His heart will be naught after all—naught, naught—och, hey! och, hey!”

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