I told him no, and that he had asked the same thing more than once.

“It’s highly possible,” said he, sighing.  “But it seems strange ye shouldnae carry it.  However, as I was saying, this Alan Breck is a bold, desperate customer, and well kent to be James’s right hand.  His life is forfeit already; he would boggle at naething; and maybe, if a tenant-body was to hang back he would get a dirk in his wame.”

“You make a poor story of it all, Mr. Henderland,” said I.  “If it is all fear upon both sides, I care to hear no more of it.”

“Na,” said Mr. Henderland, “but there’s love too, and self-denial that should put the like of you and me to shame.  There’s something fine about it; no perhaps Christian, but humanly fine.  Even Alan Breck, by all that I hear, is a chield to be respected.  There’s many a lying sneck-draw sits close in kirk in our own part of the country, and stands well in the world’s eye, and maybe is a far worse man, Mr. Balfour, than yon misguided shedder of man’s blood.  Ay, ay, we might take a lesson by them.—­Ye’ll perhaps think I’ve been too long in the Hielands?” he added, smiling to me.

I told him not at all; that I had seen much to admire among the Highlanders; and if he came to that, Mr. Campbell himself was a Highlander.

“Ay,” said he, “that’s true.  It’s a fine blood.”

“And what is the King’s agent about?” I asked.

“Colin Campbell?” says Henderland.  “Putting his head in a bees’ byke!”

“He is to turn the tenants out by force, I hear?” said I.

“Yes,” says he, “but the business has gone back and forth, as folk say.  First, James of the Glens rode to Edinburgh, and got some lawyer (a Stewart, nae doubt—­they all hing together like bats in a steeple) and had the proceedings stayed.  And then Colin Campbell cam’ in again, and had the upper-hand before the Barons of Exchequer.  And now they tell me the first of the tenants are to flit to-morrow.  It’s to begin at Duror under James’s very windows, which doesnae seem wise by my humble way of it.”

“Do you think they’ll fight?” I asked.

“Well,” says Henderland, “they’re disarmed—­or supposed to be—­for there’s still a good deal of cold iron lying by in quiet places.  And then Colin Campbell has the sogers coming.  But for all that, if I was his lady wife, I wouldnae be well pleased till I got him home again.  They’re queer customers, the Appin Stewarts.”

I asked if they were worse than their neighbours.

“No they,” said he.  “And that’s the worst part of it.  For if Colin Roy can get his business done in Appin, he has it all to begin again in the next country, which they call Mamore, and which is one of the countries of the Camerons.  He’s King’s Factor upon both, and from both he has to drive out the tenants; and indeed, Mr. Balfour (to be open with ye), it’s my belief that if he escapes the one lot, he’ll get his death by the other.”