The barber-gillie, who was a doctor too, was called in to prescribe for me; but as he spoke in the Gaelic, I understood not a word of his opinion, and was too sick even to ask for a translation. I knew well enough I was ill, and that was all I cared about. I paid little heed while I lay in this poor pass. But Alan and Cluny were most of the time at the cards, and I am clear that Alan must have begun by winning; for I remember sitting up, and seeing them hard at it, and a great glittering pile of as much as sixty or a hundred guineas on the table. It looked strange enough, to see all this wealth in a nest upon a cliff-side, wattled about growing trees. And even then, I [Illustration: AT THE CARDS IN CLUNY’S CAGE _But Alan and Cluny were most of the time at the cards_] thought it seemed deep water for Alan to be riding, who had no better battle-horse than a green purse and a matter of five pounds. The luck, it seems, changed on the second day. About noon I was wakened as usual for dinner, and as usual refused to eat, and was given a dram with some bitter infusion which the barber had prescribed. The sun was shining in at the open door of the Cage, and this dazzled and offended me. Cluny sat at the table, biting the pack of cards. Alan had stooped over the bed, and had his face close to my eyes; to which, troubled as they were with the fever, it seemed of the most shocking bigness. He asked me for a loan of my money. “What for?” said I. “O, just for a loan,” said he. “But why?” I repeated. “I don’t see.” “Hut, David!” said Alan, “ye wouldnae grudge me a loan?” I would, though, if I had had my senses! But all I thought of then was to get his face away, and I handed him my money. On the morning of the third day, when we had been forty-eight hours in the Cage, I awoke with a great relief of spirits, very weak and weary indeed, but seeing things of the right size and with their honest, everyday appearance. I had a mind to eat, moreover, rose from bed of my own movement, and as soon as we had breakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sat down outside in the top of the wood. It was a grey day with a cool, mild air: and I sat in a dream all morning, only disturbed by the passing by of Cluny’s scouts and servants coming with provisions and reports; for as the coast was at that time clear, you might almost say he held court openly. When I returned, he and Alan had laid the cards aside, and were questioning a gillie; and the chief turned about and spoke to me in the Gaelic. “I have no Gaelic, sir,” said I. Now since the card question, everything I said or did had the power of annoying Cluny. “Your name has more sense than yourself, then,” said he angrily; “for it’s good Gaelic. But the point is this. My scout reports all clear in the south, and the question is, have ye the strength to go?”