"You shall have all that I have to give you, boys," said the old man; "but that is not much. I would have fain given a sup out of the bottle to the poor wounded man that came in here, a little time ago; but I bethought me that you might want it all, and so we sent him to his bed with a cup of warm milk and water." "Bed, did you say?" cried Ian. "What! one of Prince Charley's men?" "Surely, surely!" said the old man. "Troth, I should have been any thing but fond of letting in any one else but a man who had fought on the same side with yourselves." "Don't speak of our having fought on Charley's side, father," said Ian; "that's not to be boasted of now. The fruits of fighting for him have been nothing but danger and starvation, so far as we have gathered them; and now we have no prospect before us but the risk of hanging. Methinks you would have shewn more wisdom if you had sent this fellow away from your door. To have us three hunted men here, is enough to make the place too hot, without bringing in another to add to the fire." "Never mind, Ian," said MacCallum; "why may we not make our own of him? You know very well that John MacAllister told us that he could make our peace, and save our lives, if we could only prove our loyalty to the King, by bringing in a rebel or two." "Very true," said Hamish; "and an excellent advice it was." "Most excellent," said Ian; "and if we act wisely, and as I advise, this fellow shall be our first peace-offering." "Oh, boys, boys!" cried the old man; "would you buy your own lives by treachery of so black a die?" "Oh, life is sweet!" cried the old woman--"and the lives of my bairns----" "Hold your foolish tongue, woman!" interrupted the old man. "No, no, boys! I'll never consent to it." "Oh life is sweet! life is sweet!" cried the old woman again; "and the lives of both my bonny boys--the life of Ian, the father of this poor lassie!----" "Oh, my father's life!" whimpered the little girl. "This is no place to talk of such things," said the old man, leading the way into the apartment at the opposite end of the house, to that where John Smith was sleeping, and followed by all but Morag, who, having slipped towards the door, to listen after he had closed it, heard him say, "What made you speak that way before the stranger lass?" "Who and what is she at all?" demanded Ian. "A poor tired lass, weary with the long way she has been to see her friends," said the old woman; "but she'll be gone very soon." "If she does not go of her own accord, we must take strong measures with her too," said Ian.