"It is our duty to prevent Cumberland taking a ruthless vengeance on our people," he continued; "rather than leave them to Hanoverian justice, we should be prepared to die sword in hand." Murray of Broughton stirred uneasily. "I fear your lordship does not know how scattered our forces are--the Prince flying for his life--the clans unwilling to mobilize again." Very slowly Lovat raised his face, and stared Murray down. Then turning to Lochiel he said: "Is that not true?" as though the Prince's secretary had not spoken at all. "I am ready to sacrifice everything if we can make a stand," replied the chief of the Camerons simply. "I think your lordship did not catch my meaning," broke in Murray in a fluster. "I think," corrected Lovat with composure, "I caught it finely." "Your lordship's pardon if I seem to take a liberty," said Roy Stuart, "but what can we do more than we have done during the last few months? We have been promised French aid--none has come. We have looked for French gold--there has been little enough of that. The English Jacobites have lain like rats in a hole." "And we--those of us who can run," retorted Lovat, "are like rats without a hole. There are occasions, Mr. Stuart, when even rats can face the cat--and rout him too." "The Prince has ordered us to disperse," bleated Murray in a flutter of nerves and tepid anger. "The Prince," barked Lovat, "gave his last order on Culloden Moor. We are done with princes and Irishmen and grand French promises; we are men with everything to lose and something to gain. Maybe your profession, Mr. Murray, or is it your Lowland blood, has made you unacquainted with the lengths that despair may drive a man." "You are pleased to sneer, sir," blurted out Murray. "I trust," replied Lovat, in a melancholy undertone, "you may never have a chance to repay the compliment." "Come, come," broke in Lochiel, "this is no time for contentions. If it is decided that we shall raise the clans we must make speed. I take it that we are of one mind upon that?" Lovat nodded his head before any could speak. "Could we but raise a few thousand men," he said, "and we shall show the Duke what Highland warfare may mean. Let us meet again in ten days' time each with his people. Send out the summons, Lochiel. Let the Prince take ship to France if he will--so long as we do not betray each other" (and here he looked hard at Murray) "we are as safe as wild-cats in Argyll." There was a loud murmur of approval from those about him. Now, as always, Lovat had carried the day. He had come, an old sick man, coughing in his litter, facing a dozen men fairly eaten up with fear and perplexity. In one short hour he had them at his heel. With a body as sound as his mind he would have raised the Highlands himself.