“I see you are on your way up to the camp,” said he, with an appearance of indifference. “We were just thinking of a daunder there ourselves.” “No,” said MacLachlan, shortly; “I’m for farther up the Glen.” “Then at least we’ll have your company part of the way,” said John, and the three of us walked slowly off, the young gentleman with no great warmth at the idea, which was likely to spoil his excursion to some degree. M’Iver took the place between us, and in the rear, twenty paces, came the _gille cas-fleuch_. “I have been bargaining for a horse up here,” said John in a while, “and I’m anxious that Elrigmore should see it. You’ll have heard I’m off again on the old road.” “There’s a rumour of it,” said MacLachlan, cogitating on his own affairs, or perhaps wondering what our new interest in his company was due to. “Ah! it’s in my blood,” said John, “in my blood and bones! Argile was a fairly good master--so to call him--but--well, you understand yourself: a man of my kind at a time like this feels more comfortable anywhere else than in the neighbourhood of his chief.” “I daresay,” replied MacLachlan, refusing the hook, and yet with a sneer in his accent. “Have you heard that his lordship and I are at variance since our return from the North?” “Oh! there’s plenty of gossip in the town,” said MacLachlan. “It’s common talk that you threw your dagger in his face. My father, who’s a small chief enough so far as wealth of men and acres goes, would have used the weapon to let out the hot blood of his insulter there and then.” “I daresay,” said M’Iver. “You’re a hot-headed clan. And MacCailein has his own ways.” “He’s welcome to keep them too,” answered the young fellow, his sneer in no ways abated I became afraid that his carefully curbed tongue would not give us our opening before we parted, and was inclined to force his hand; but M’Iver came in quickly and more astutely. “How?” said he; “what’s your meaning? Are you in the notions that he has anything to learn of courtesy and gallantry on the other side of the loch at Strath-lachlan?” MacLachlan’s eyes faltered a little under his pent brows. Perhaps he had a suspicion of the slightest that he was being goaded on for some purpose, but if he had, his temper was too raw to let him qualify his retort with calmness. “Do you know, Barbreck,” said he, “I would not care to say much about what your nobleman has to learn or unlearn? As for the gallantry--good Lord, now!--did you ever hear of one of my house leaving his men to shift for themselves when blows were going?” M’Iver with an utterance the least thought choked by an anger due to the insult he had wrought for, shrugged his shoulders, and at the same time gave me his elbow in the side for his sign.