An old man and woman came immediately to open it, and looked out eagerly, as if for some one whose coming they had expected, and disappointment seemed to cloud their brows, when they found only her who was a stranger to them. Morag, addressing them in Gaelic, entreated for leave to rest herself for half an hour by their fireside. She was admitted, after some hesitation and whispering between them, after which she craved a morsel of oaten cake, and a draught of water. A little girl, of some eight or nine years old, waited not to know her granny's will, but ran to a cupboard for the cake; and brought it to her, and then hastened to fill a bowl with water from a pitcher that stood in a corner. The old couple would have fain pumped out of Morag something of her history, and they put many questions to her for that purpose. But she was too shrewd for them, and all they could gather from her was, that she had been away seeing her friends a long way off, and that she had first rode, and then walked so far, that she was glad of a little rest, and a morsel to allay her hunger, after which she would be enabled to continue her journey, with many thanks to them for their hospitality. Morag had not sat there for many minutes, when there came a rap to the door. The old man sprang up to open it, and immediately three Highlanders appeared, full armed with claymores and dirks, but very much jaded and soiled with travel. Morag retired into a corner. "Och, Ian! Ian!"--"Och, Hamish! Hamish!" cried the old couple, embracing two of them, who appeared to be their sons; and, "Oh, father! father!" cried the little girl, springing into Ian's arms. "Tuts, don't be foolish, Kirstock!" cried Ian, in a surly tone, as he shook off the little girl; "What's the use of all this nonsense, father?--Better for you to be getting something for us and our comrade MacCallum here to drink. We are almost famished for want;" and with that he threw himself into the old man's wooden arm-chair. "Aye, aye, father," said Hamish, occupying the seat where his mother had sat, and motioning to MacCallum to take that which Morag had just left; "we have had a sad tramp away from the battle. Would we had never gone near it! Aye, and we got such a fright into the bargain." "Fright!" cried the old man much excited; "Surely, surely, my sons are not cowards!--Much as I love you, boys, I would rather that you had both died than run away." "Oh!" said MacCallum, now joining in the conversation, "we all three fought like lions in the battle. But it requires nerves harder than steel to look upon the Devil, and if ever he was seen on earth, we saw him this precious night." "Preserve us all!" said the old woman; "what was he like?" "Never mind what he was like, mother," said Ian gruffly; "let us have some of your bread and cheese, and a drop of Uisge-beatha to put some heart in us."