"Mar found it so in the '15, and many honest gentlemen paid for his mistake with their heads. My father's brother for one." "Mar bungled it from start to finish. He had the game in his own hands and dribbled away his chances like a coward and a fool." "Perhaps, but even so, much water has passed under London Bridge since then. It is sixty years since the Stuarts were driven out. Two generations have slept on it." "Then the third generation of sleepers shall be wakened. The stream is coming down in spate," said Balmerino. "I hear you say it," I answered dryly. "And you shall live to see us do it, Mr. Montagu. The heather's in a blaze already. The fiery cross will be speeding from Badenoch to the Braes of Balwhidder. The clans will all rise whatever," cried Donald Roy. "I'm not so sure about Mr. Montagu living to see it. My friends O'Sullivan and De Vallery seem to think not," said Creagh, giving me his odd smile. "Now, I'll wager a crown that----" "Whose crown did you say?" I asked politely, handing him back his smile. "The government cannot stand out against us," argued Balmerino. "The Duke of Newcastle is almost an imbecile. The Dutch usurper himself is over in Hanover courting a new mistress. His troops are all engaged in foreign war. There are not ten thousand soldiers on the island. At this very moment the King of France is sending fifteen thousand across in transports. He will have no difficulty in landing them and London cannot hold out." "Faith, he might get his army here. I'm not denying that. But I'll promise him trouble in getting it away again." "The Highlands are ready to fling away the scabbard for King James III," said Donald Roy simply. "It is in my mind that you have done that more than once before and that because of it misguided heads louped from sturdy shoulders," I answered. "Wales too is full of loyal gentlemen. What can the Hanoverians do if they march across the border to join the Highlanders rolling down from the North and Marshal Saxe with his French army?" "My imagination halts," I answered dryly. "You will be telling me next that England is wearying for a change back to the race of Kings she has twice driven out." "I do say it," cried Leath. "Bolingbroke is already negotiating with the royal family. Newcastle is a broken reed. Hervey will not stand out. Walpole is a dying man. In whom can the Dutchman trust? The nation is tired of them, their mistresses and their German brood." "When we had them we found these same Stuarts a dangerous and troublesome race. We could not in any manner get along with them. We drove them out, and then nothing would satisfy us but we must have them back again. Well, they had their second chance, and we found them worse than before. They had not learnt the lesson of the age. They----"