“Such a character,” said Anderson, “cannot but have the deepest effect on the minds of a Highland host.  We must secure Allan, my lord, at all events.  What between his bravery and his second sight—­”

“Hush!” said Lord Menteith, “that owl is awaking.”

“Do you talk of the second sight, or DEUTERO-SCOPIA?” said the soldier; “I remember memorable Major Munro telling me how Murdoch Mackenzie, born in Assint, a private gentleman in a company, and a pretty soldier, foretold the death of Donald Tough, a Lochaber man, and certain other persons, as well as the hurt of the major himself at a sudden onfall at the siege of Trailsund.”

“I have often heard of this faculty,” observed Anderson, “but I have always thought those pretending to it were either enthusiasts or impostors.”

“I should be loath,” said Lord Menteith, “to apply either character to my kinsman, Allan M’Aulay.  He has shown on many occasions too much acuteness and sense, of which you this night had an instance, for the character of an enthusiast; and his high sense of honour, and manliness of disposition, free him from the charge of imposture.”

“Your lordship, then,” said Anderson, “is a believer in his supernatural attributes?”

“By no means,” said the young nobleman; “I think that he persuades himself that the predictions which are, in reality, the result of judgment and reflection, are supernatural impressions on his mind, just as fanatics conceive the workings of their own imagination to be divine inspiration—­at least, if this will not serve you, Anderson, I have no better explanation to give; and it is time we were all asleep after the toilsome journey of the day.”

CHAPTER VI.

     Coming events cast their shadows before.—­Campbell.

At an early hour in the morning the guests of the castle sprung from their repose; and, after a moment’s private conversation with his attendants, Lord Menteith addressed the soldier, who was seated in a corner burnishing his corslet with rot-stone and chamois-leather, while he hummed the old song in honour of the victorious Gustavus Adolphus:—­

     When cannons are roaring, and bullets are flying,
     The lad that would have honour, boys, must never fear dying.

“Captain Dalgetty,” said Lord Menteith, “the time is come that we must part, or become comrades in service.”

“Not before breakfast, I hope?” said Captain Dalgetty.

“I should have thought,” replied his lordship, “that your garrison was victualled for three days at least.”

“I have still some stowage left for beef and bannocks,” said the Captain; “and I never miss a favourable opportunity of renewing my supplies.”

“But,” said Lord Menteith, “no judicious commander allows either flags of truce or neutrals to remain in his camp longer than is prudent; and therefore we must know your mind exactly, according to which you shall either have a safe-conduct to depart in peace, or be welcome to remain with us.”