He soon reached the inn, which stands half-way between Buchanan House (the duke's residence) and the village of Drymen; and close by it he placed his men in a copsewood. Killearn, with many of the duke's tenants, was in the dining-room, and he had already given receipts for a large sum of money, when the sound of a bagpipe was heard approaching. The air played, "Up wi' the Campbells and down wi' the Grahames," betokening something hostile, they hurried to the windows, and great was the consternation of Killearn when he beheld Rob Roy, but alone, or preceded only by the piper, Alpine, advancing straight to the door of the inn. Though in terror that his own life might be the forfeit of the proceedings instituted against Rob nine years before, he sought to preserve his master's property, and gathering up his rent-rolls, receipts, and the bags containing the money, he flung them into a loft above the room. At that moment the door was thrown open, and with a respect that was in no way assumed, the landlord ushered in Rob Roy, fully armed, with a smile on his lip and irony in his clear grey eye, while Alpine remained as a sentinel at the entrance of the inn. "God save all here!" said MacGregor, bowing. "A hundred thousand welcomes!" replied Killearn, whose dapper little figure trembled in his buckled shoes, and he nervously fingered the breeches bible that was always in one of the large flapped pockets of his square-skirted black velvet coat. He trembled so much that the powder of his wig floated like a cloud about his head, as it was shaken from the curls. On this occasion, Rob wore a short green jacket profusely laced with silver; a long red waistcoat, and scarlet woollen shirt open at the neck; a belted plaid, and pair of deerskin hose and cuarans elaborately cut and tied with thongs. His sporan was ornamented with silver and closed by a curious lock, which concealed two pistol barrels that were always loaded, and would infallibly blow to pieces the hands of any person attempting to open it while ignorant of its secret springs. (This singular clasp is now preserved in the Museum of Antiquities at Edinburgh.) In his bonnet was a long eagle's feather, a tuft of pine, and the proscribed white cockade. His lawless and predatory life had imparted a wild expression to his eye and a boldness to his bearing that impressed all present; but one of the duke's farmers, named MacLaren, gathering courage, pushed a bottle of wine and another of whisky towards him, saying, with affected confidence,-- "You will drink with us, MacGregor?" "That will I do, blithely," replied Rob, as he filled up a silver quaich with whisky, and drank it off, previously giving the old Highland toast,-- "The Hills, the Glens, and _the People_!" He then laid his sword and pistols on the table, and presenting his little crooked snuff-mull to go round the company, in token of amity, he said,--