“Ay” said he, “it’s well seen it was a Campbell taught ye!  It would be a convenient world for them and their sort, if there was no such a thing as a lad and a gun behind a heather bush!  But that’s nothing to the point.  This is what he did.”

“Ay” said I, “come to that.”

“Well, David,” said he, “since he couldnae be rid of the loyal commons by fair means, he swore he would be rid of them by foul.  Ardshiel was to starve:  that was the thing he aimed at.  And since them that fed him in his exile wouldnae be bought out—­right or wrong, he would drive them out.  Therefore he sent for lawyers, and papers, and red-coats to stand at his back.  And the kindly folk of that country must all pack and tramp, every father’s son out of his father’s house, and out of the place where he was bred and fed, and played when he was a callant.  And who are to succeed them?  Bare-leggit beggars!  King George is to whistle for his rents; he maun dow with less; he can spread his butter thinner:  what cares Red Colin?  If he can hurt Ardshiel, he has his wish; if he can pluck the meat from my chieftain’s table, and the bit toys out of his children’s hands, he will gang hame singing to Glenure!”

“Let me have a word,” said I.  “Be sure, if they take less rents, be sure Government has a finger in the pie.  It’s not this Campbell’s fault, man—­it’s his orders.  And if ye killed this Colin to-morrow, what better would ye be?  There would be another factor in his shoes, as fast as spur can drive.”

“Ye’re a good lad in a fight,” said Alan; “but, man! ye have Whig blood in ye!”

He spoke kindly enough, but there was so much anger under his contempt that I thought it was wise to change the conversation.  I expressed my wonder how, with the Highlands covered with troops, and guarded like a city in a siege, a man in his situation could come and go without arrest.

“It’s easier than ye would think,” said Alan.  “A bare hillside (ye see) is like all one road; if there’s a sentry at one place, ye just go by another.  And then the heather’s a great help.  And everywhere there are friends’ houses and friends’ byres and haystacks.  And besides, when folk talk of a country covered with troops, it’s but a kind of a byword at the best.  A soldier covers nae mair of it than his boot-soles.  I have fished a water with a sentry on the other side of the brae, and killed a fine trout; and I have sat in a heather bush within six feet of another, and learned a real bonny tune from his whistling.  This was it,” said he, and whistled me the air.

“And then, besides,” he continued, “it’s no sae bad now as it was in forty-six.  The Hielands are what they call pacified.  Small wonder, with never a gun or a sword left from Cantyre to Cape Wrath, but what tenty* folk have hidden in their thatch!  But what I would like to ken, David, is just how long?  Not long, ye would think, with men like Ardshiel in exile and men like the Red Fox sitting birling the wine and oppressing the poor at home.  But it’s a kittle thing to decide what folk’ll bear, and what they will not.  Or why would Red Colin be riding his horse all over my poor country of Appin, and never a pretty lad to put a bullet in him?”