Anderson, the domestic who had before spoken now respectfully addressed his master.—­“I think, my lord,” he said, “that, under your lordship’s favour, I could say something to remove Captain Dalgetty’s second objection also.  He asks us where we are to collect our pay; now, in my poor mind, the resources are as open to us as to the Covenanters.  They tax the country according to their pleasure, and dilapidate the estates of the King’s friends; now, were we once in the Lowlands, with our Highlanders and our Irish at our backs, and our swords in our hands, we can find many a fat traitor, whose ill-gotten wealth shall fill our military chest and satisfy our soldiery.  Besides, confiscations will fall in thick; and, in giving donations of forfeited lands to every adventurous cavalier who joins his standard, the King will at once reward his friends and punish his enemies.  In short, he that joins these Roundhead dogs may get some miserable pittance of pay—­he that joins our standard has a chance to be knight, lord, or earl, if luck serve him.”

“Have you ever served, my good friend?” said the Captain to the spokesman.

“A little, sir, in these our domestic quarrels,” answered the man, modestly.

“But never in Germany or the Low Countries?” said Dalgetty.

“I never had the honour,” answered Anderson.

“I profess,” said Dalgetty, addressing Lord Menteith, “your lordship’s servant has a sensible, natural, pretty idea of military matters; somewhat irregular, though, and smells a little too much of selling the bear’s skin before he has hunted him.—­I will take the matter, however, into my consideration.”

“Do so, Captain,” said Lord Menteith; “you will have the night to think of it, for we are now near the house, where I hope to ensure you a hospitable reception.”

“And that is what will be very welcome,” said the Captain, “for I have tasted no food since daybreak but a farl of oatcake, which I divided with my horse.  So I have been fain to draw my sword-belt three bores tighter for very extenuation, lest hunger and heavy iron should make the gird slip.”

CHAPTER IV.

     Once on a time, no matter when,
     Some Glunimies met in a glen;
     As deft and tight as ever wore
     A durk, a targe, and a claymore,
     Short hose, and belted plaid or trews,
     In Uist, Lochaber, Skye, or Lewes,
     Or cover’d hard head with his bonnet;
     Had you but known them, you would own it.—­MESTON.

A hill was now before the travellers, covered with an ancient forest of Scottish firs, the topmost of which, flinging their scathed branches across the western horizon, gleamed ruddy in the setting sun.  In the centre of this wood rose the towers, or rather the chimneys, of the house, or castle, as it was called, destined for the end of their journey.

As usual at that period, one or two high-ridged narrow buildings, intersecting and crossing each other, formed the corps de LOGIS.  A protecting bartizan or two, with the addition of small turrets at the angles, much resembling pepper-boxes, had procured for Darnlinvarach the dignified appellation of a castle.  It was surrounded by a low court-yard wall, within which were the usual offices.