The faces of the four Englishmen who rode with the Duke were stern and drawn. Wolfe dismounted from his horse and reverently covered the face of the dead Jacobite with a kerchief. "God grant that when our time comes we may die as valiantly and as loyally as this young gentleman," he said solemnly, raising his hat. Volney, Boyd, and Wolfe's subaltern uncovered, and echoed an "Amen." Cumberland glared from one to another of them, ran the gamut of all tints from pink to deepest purple, gulped out an apoplectic Dutch oath, and dug the rowels deep into his bay. With shame, sorrow, and contempt in their hearts his retinue followed the butcher across the field. My face was like the melting winter snows. I could not look at the Macdonald, nor he at me. We mounted in silence and rode away. Only once he referred to what we had seen. "Many's the time that Charlie Fraser and I have hunted the dun deer across the heather hills, and now----" He broke into Gaelic lamentation and imprecation, then fell as suddenly to quiet. We bore up a ravine away from the roads toward where a great gash in the hills invited us, for we did not need to be told that the chances of safety increased with our distance from the beaten tracks of travel. A man on horseback came riding behind and overhauled us rapidly. Presently we saw that he was a red-coated officer, and behind a huge rock we waited to pistol him as he came up. The man leaped from his horse and came straight toward us. I laid a hand on Captain Roy's arm, for I had recognized Major Wolfe. But I was too late. A pistol ball went slapping through the Major's hat and knocked it from his head. He stooped, replaced it with the utmost composure, and continued to advance, at the same time calling out that he was a friend. "I recognized you behind the birches, Montagu, and thought that you and your friend could use another horse. Take my Galloway. You will find him a good traveller." I ask you to believe that we stared long at him. A wistful smile touched his sallow face. "We're not all ruffians in the English army, lad. If I aid your escape it is because prisoners have no rights this day. My advice would be for you to strike for the hills." "In troth and I would think your advisings good, sir," answered Donald. "No glen will be too far, no ben too high, for a hiding-place from these bloody Sassenach dogs." Then he stopped, the bitterness fading from his voice, and added: "But I am forgetting myself. God, sir, the sights I have seen this day drive me mad. At all events there iss one English officer Captain Macdonald will remember whatever." And the Highlander bowed with dignity.