on the promise of such support that Lochiel had induced the chiefs to arm.  Dundee sent letter after letter to Ireland full of cheerful accounts of the good promise of affairs, but urging the instant despatch of troops, together with a store of money, ammunition, and all the other necessaries for an army about to take the field, of which there was, in truth, a most plentiful lack in Lochaber.  There were not above fifty pounds of powder in the camp; and though the Highland fashion was to trust more to the cold steel than the bullet, powder was a necessity of war that could not well be altogether dispensed with.  Dundee also urged upon Melfort the good effect James’ own presence would have upon his Scottish allies.  If that could not be managed, he said, at least let him send the Duke of Berwick.  There was no petty jealousy in Dundee’s character.  He would have cheerfully put himself under the command of any man if by so doing he were likely to further the cause he had at heart.  But no answer came to these appeals.  In one of the last letters Dundee wrote, he reminds Melfort that for three months he had received not a single line from him or from James.

Meanwhile, his tact, his good temper, courtesy, and liberality had won the hearts of his new allies.  With the money he had brought with him from the Lowlands, and the supplies his wife and some of his friends were able occasionally to send him, he contrived to maintain an establishment that was at least superior to anything which most of his new friends were accustomed to.  Every day he entertained some of the chiefs at his table.  He made himself acquainted with the faces and names of the principal tacksmen of each clan, and mastered a few words of Gaelic to enable him to address and return salutations.  In the field he lived no better than the meanest of his men, sharing their coarse food and hard lodging, and often marching on foot by their side over the roughest country and in the wildest weather.  His powers of endurance extorted the wonder even of those sturdy mountaineers who had been inured from childhood to the extremes of hunger and fatigue.  More than a century after his death it was still told with admiration how once, after chasing Mackay from dawn to sunset of a summer’s day over the ruggedest part of the Athole country, he had spent the night in writing, only resting his head occasionally on his hands to snatch a few moments of sleep.  Among the Camerons he was always spoken of as the General, and honoured next to Lochiel himself.  At the same time, he was careful to maintain his authority and to exact the respect due to his position.  He knew well that among those lawless spirits he who would be obeyed must be feared.  On one occasion he administered a public rebuke to the arch-thief, Keppoch, who had found time for another raid on the Mackintoshes.  In the presence of all the chiefs Dundee told the offender that he would sooner serve in the ranks of a disciplined regiment than command