"Braw words for a nameless man," cried Cameron bitterly, but very red about the neck. "Hark, Rob, for maybe ye will never hear the like again." "I am no nameless man!" roared Muckle John; "and well ye know it." Cameron smiled quietly to himself. "Then the greater the smirch on your clan--though I'm no just remembering the tartan," he said. At that Muckle John, flinging back his stool, leaped to his feet, and called out a name which no man Lochaber way can hear in silence. For an instant, indeed, Cameron seemed on the point of springing upon him; then restraining himself with an effort, he spoke in a very polite tone: "You will perceive," said he, "I have no sword." But now that the thing was said Muckle John appeared greatly put about and anxious to smooth it over. He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with the brooch upon his plaid. "Tuts, Dr. Cameron!" he said. "I spoke over warmly." But Cameron only frowned and shook his head. "I have no sword," he said again. There was no mistaking his meaning. With a shrug Muckle John turned and left the cave. "Do not fight him, doctor," broke in Rob. "It is sheer madness. Oh, how could ye fall into such a trap? It is to kill you he led you on." "Rob," replied Cameron, "you are too young to understand the ways of a Highland gentleman." "But surely you are more service to the Prince..." "Whisht, boy! Dinna haver. Ye heard what word he used. A man's name means mair than a whole clan of Princes." After that there was nothing more to be said. The doorway darkened again and Muckle John entered with two claymores and targes. "It is lighter outside, Dr. Cameron," he said, as though they were about to discuss a friendly bout together. "As you will," replied Cameron with equanimity, and bowed to him to take the lead. But Muckle John bowed still lower, and with his head cocked very high Cameron passed through. A level place of about ten feet square lay before the cave, and clustered on a ledge above sprawled and sat some dozen ragged Highlanders, who evinced no sort of interest whatever in the impending encounter. Cameron swung his blade once or twice and tested the steel upon the ground. The targe he threw aside. Then taking off their coats they rolled up their sleeves, and saluted each other. Seeing that the thing was past mending, Rob took his seat very sadly upon a mound and wondered how it would all end. The grey, desolate sky, the silence of utter solitude, the cluster of dirty, unmoved Highlanders, and above and upon them all the smirr of thin hill rain, made his heart sink like lead. And in the weary greyness of it all, two men about to fight to the death over a hasty word. It was a situation typically Highland. Cameron, as sturdy a figure as one could wish to see, was standing on guard right foot foremost, his left arm behind his back.