Then passing onward they came to a narrow defile with a man on guard at the entrance, and continuing their way, reached the opening to a cave. In the sheltered ground which lay before the cave three men were engaged around a fire, and the smell of cooking drifted in a cloud about their stooping forms. "Rob," said Muckle John, making way for him to pass, "will you step inside, for if I am not mistaken there is one who will be pleased to see ye." Without a word, but anxious to know to whom Muckle John could refer, Rob entered the cave. For a moment the darkness of the place made him think he was alone. Then of a sudden he made out the form of a man lying upon the floor; and with a quick fear he knelt down and recognized Archibald Cameron, bound hand and foot. It took Rob but a couple of slashes with his skian dhu and Cameron was free of his bonds. Sitting up he groaned and surveyed Rob with a whimsical smile. "This is a queer manner of hospitality," said he. "If ye had mentioned the name o' the gentleman you were serving I would have taken the hint kindly." "I serving?" broke in Rob, "I do not understand." Cameron shrugged his shoulders cynically. "Maybe ye do not remember the letter," he said very politely, "maybe ye are not Rob Fraser?" "Dr. Cameron," replied Rob, "this is no time for quarrelling. I know of no letter, and I am a prisoner like yourself. We are both in the hands of Muckle John." "Muckle John! So that's how the wind blows, eh? Oh, I begin to see. Poor Rob, you're aye the scapegoat. Muckle John, indeed!" "You know of him?" Cameron snorted. "Wha does not?" said he, "there's few between here and Rome has not heard tell of Muckle John." "Then is he Hanoverian?" "He's mair like a kite that hovers above the squabbles of other folk." "Then what does he want with us?" "Money." "It's little of that I have." "You, Rob? Oh no!" And he smiled in a way as though the idea tickled him. Very greatly puzzled, Rob fell back on silence, and presently Muckle John himself entered the place. He was in Highland dress and made a great appearance of surprise at seeing Cameron, which ill accorded with the reception that unfortunate gentleman gave him. Then turning, he clapped Rob upon the shoulder and bade them both be seated. "It's poor hospitality," said he in Gaelic; "but these are sad times, Dr. Cameron. Old campaigners like us know there's thin rations when one takes to the heather." "Come, sir," replied Cameron, still standing and replying in Scots, "what is it you want? I ken ye fine, and well ye know it. It is not for the pleasure of my company that your cutthroats brought me here. But I warn you there will be a reckoning for this. There will be a bonny ending for you, sir, when it is known in Lochaber." "Lochaber," sneered Muckle John. "While there is a guineapiece buried in Lochaber neither you nor the Prince himself would raise a Cameron to his side."