And all this was seen by the red light of the bogwood fire, in the wavering gleams of which, as they played upon the winding-sheet, the corpse seemed always as if about to start and arise. "Ochon, ochon, ochrie!" wailed thu mother of Colin, as she swayed herself to and fro; "the drops of the blessed dew that God sends on earth are resting on the cold cheek of my fair son this night; and they are not more pure than he was; but I knew he was doomed never to see the leaves of autumn fall!" "How?" asked several, bending forward to listen. "He drew the black-lot, when the cake was broken in Greumoch's bonnet on Beltane eve." "Never say so, widow," said MacGregor; "think only that the lad died as became his father's son, boldly defending his own; God rest him!" Here all bowed their heads, and many made the sign of the cross. "A slash with an axe has slain him," resumed Rob Roy; "a sword would never cut so deep; but the brave boy has defended himself, for his skene is yet grasped in his better hand, so let it go to the grave with him." Mutterings of grim approval went through the group. "To you, Red Rob, I look for vengeance--for vengeance on the murderers!" cried the mother wildly, as she stretched her hands towards the chieftain. "And vengeance you shall have, Jean; by the faith of our fathers, you shall!" replied Rob Roy. "I have little doubt that the same hand which slew Fair Colin, cast Callam's daughter into the river; but time will show." "We have the cattle to recover too," said several; "let us to the hills--to the hills! The creagh (spoil) cannot be far off yet." "What! are the cattle carried off?" asked Rob, with a darkening frown. "The cattle I bought at Fil-ina-chessaig--that blessed 21st of March, at the fair of Callender--ay, every hoof and horn," said Greumoch. "Well, the blackest mail we ever levied will I lay on these caterans, and the reddest blood we have shed shall be theirs, Jean! But there are other wounds here," continued Rob, as he turned down the winding-sheet; "look at the poor child's hand: it has been _bitten_!" "Bitten as if by a wolf!" screamed the mother, with growing horror. "Nay, bitten by a man who has lost every alternate tooth in his lower jaw, and by that mark shall we know him!" "Where? among the Buchanans or Cclquhouns?" demanded several, while the excitement grew apace. "Among neither," exclaimed a harsh and croaking voice. "Why--why?" asked the crowd. "For 'tis Duncan nan Creagh who did this; Duncan Mhor, from Kintail na Bogh." "Who spoke?" said Rob Roy, peering through the smoke which obscured the atmosphere of the hut. "I, Phail Crubach," replied a decrepit old man, for whom all now made way, with a strangely mingled bearing of respect and aversion; for this visitor was supposed to have the double gift of prophecy and the second sight.