I asked him whether he had seen anything of Captain Roy Macdonald, and he told me that he had last seen him lying wounded on the field. I had him describe to me accurately the position, and rode back by a wide circuit toward Drummossie Moor. I had of course torn off the white cockade and put it in my breast so as to minimize the danger of being recognized as a follower of the Prince. My heart goes to my throat whenever I think of that ride, for behind every clump of whins one might look to find a wounded clansman hiding from the riders of Cumberland. By good providence I came on Captain Macdonald just as three hussars were about to make an end of him. He had his back to a great stone, and was waiting grimly for them to shoot him down. Supposing me to be an officer of their party the troopers desisted at my remonstrance and left him to me. Donald Roy was wounded in the foot, but he managed to mount behind me. We got as far as the wall of the park when I saw a party of officers approaching. Hastily dismounting, we led the horse behind a nest of birches till they should pass. A few yards from us a sorely wounded Highland officer was lying. Macdonald recognized him as Charles Fraser, younger of Inverallachie, the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fraser regiment and in the absence of the Master of Lovat commander. We found no time to drag him to safety before the English officers were upon us. The approaching party turned out to be the Duke of Cumberland himself, Major Wolfe, Lord Boyd, Sir Robert Volney, and a boy officer of Wolfe's regiment. Young Fraser raised himself on his elbow to look at the Duke. The Butcher reined in his horse, frowning blackly down at him. "To which side do you belong?" he asked. "To the Prince," was the undaunted answer. Cumberland, turning to Major Wolfe, said, "Major, are your pistols loaded?" Wolfe said that they were. "Then shoot me that Highland scoundrel who dares look on me so insolently." Major Wolfe looked at his commander very steadily and said quietly: "Sir, my commission is at the disposal of your Royal Highness, but my honour is my own. I can never consent to become a common executioner." The Duke purpled, and burst out with, "Bah! Pistol him, Boyd." "Your Highness asks what is not fitting for you to require nor for me to perform," answered that young nobleman. The Duke, in a fury, turned to a passing dragoon and bade him shoot the young man. Charles Fraser dragged himself to his feet by a great effort and looked at the butcher with a face of infinite scorn while the soldier was loading his piece. "Your Highness," began Wolfe, about to remonstrate. "Sir, I command you to be silent," screamed the Duke. The trooper presented his piece at the Fraser, whose steady eyes never left the face of Cumberland. "God save King James!" cried Inverallachie in English, and next moment fell dead from the discharge of the musket.