"No--no--no!--not at present, Will," cried the Pensassenach, her patience quite exhausted with his prolixity. "Another time Will--but I have other fish to fry at present. Morag!--Morag, girl! run! call out all the men! My stars, how unfortunate it is that MacArthur is from home! How he would rejoice! Call all the men, I say!" "Fat vas she cryin' aboot?" said Morag, hurrying to answer her call. "Run and call all the men, I tell you, girl!" cried the Pensassenach, bustling about, all life and activity, and her indisposition entirely forgotten. "Call all the men I say; and John Smith in particular. I want John Smith here immediately. What glorious news! There wont be a rascally rebel knave of them left in the whole country. And my brother John coming too! Who knows but we may have the honour of being presented to his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland in person! How provoking it is that MacArthur is from home!" "Fat wad ta leddy be wantin' wi' her?" said John Smith, at that moment putting his head into the room, his Kilmarnock cowl, and the disordered state of the covering of so much of the upper part of his person as was visible, sufficiently indicating that he had been roused from his bed. "Fat wad ta leddy be wantin'? We wus a' beddit." "Run, John!" cried the impatient lady, "run and make all the people get out of their beds directly! collect every one, man and woman, about the farm. Make them yoke all the carts, and drive a whole peat-stack to the head of the knoll, and build up a large bonfire, and see that you mix your layers of peats with layers of moss-fir, and dry furze-bushes. I'll have a blaze that shall be seen from Forres to Inverness. Have we any tar-barrels left?" "Ou aye!" replied John; "a tar barrels tat was ower mockell fan we last tar ta sheeps." "Then put the whole tar-barrel in the midst of all," cried the Pensassenach. "Come, John, why do you stand staring so? run, man, and do as I bid you, without a moment's delay." "Ou aye, aye, she's runnin' fast," replied John, slowly moving away. "Fod, but she's thinks tat ta Pensassenach be gaen taft awtagedder." "Morag! bring a basket here directly," cried the Pensassenach, as she hurried down stairs with the large key of the cellar in her hand. "Now," said she, putting a number of bottles into the basket, "take care of these; and make haste, and bring a cheese, and some loaves of bread, and follow me quickly out to the knoll with the basket." In a very little time, an enormous pile of fuel was built up on the summit of the knoll, with the tar-barrel in the centre of it, to which an opening was at first left from the external air, which was afterwards partially filled with dry furze-bushes dipped in tar, so as to afford the flame a ready communication inwards. When every thing was prepared, the Pensassenach seized a lighted candle from a lantern, and, as Dryden hath it, she "Like another Helen, fired another Troy!"