Then, on being dragged to his feet, he found himself the prisoner of the Duke of Montrose, who surveyed him with a fierce and exulting expression in his proud and haughty face. "Oh!" exclaimed MacGregor, with a groan, "oh, eternal infamy! a prisoner, and Montrose--_to thee_!" CHAPTER XXXVIII. ROB ROY TAKEN. The duke wore a blue coat, faced and cuffed with scarlet, richly braided on the breast with broad bars of gold lace. Save at the throat, it was unbuttoned, and thus displayed a cuirass and gorget, both of the finest steel, which he wore in lieu of a vest, and over which fell the ends of his long cravat of Mechlin lace. He had on a three-cornered hat, a flowing white periwig, and black jackboots with gold spurs; and a sword and a brace of silver-mounted pistols hung at his waistbelt. By his side were Colonel Grahame, Quartermaster Stewart, and others; for his grace had come hastily into the mountains with three hundred men, to reinforce the party from which Rob had escaped so successfully at Crianlarich. "At last, MacGregor Campbell," said the duke, through his clenched teeth, while his eyes sparkled with triumph and resentment; "AT LAST you are in my power, and your doom hangs upon my lips!" MacGregor uttered a scornful laugh, and though his hands were bound behind him, he drew his sturdy figure proudly up to its full height and measured the duke with a provoking glance of profound disdain--viewing him deliberately from head to foot. "Now, my bold reiver, what have you to say?" "For myself, my lord duke?" "Yes," said Montrose, fiercely. "Simply, that by fraud and force you have won a poor victory over a single man. _Use_ that victory as you please, Montrose, but _abuse_ it not." "Nay, nay, I shall use it justly, as I am entitled to do; for you know that you have long been a doomed felon, on whose head a price has been set." "By whom?" asked MacGregor, disdainfully. "The king and government." "A German usurper and Scottish traitors like yourself!" replied the other furiously. "Ha!--it matters not how you name them; you are nevertheless a foredoomed felon, and as such shall you die!" "And who caused me to be stigmatized as such--who but you? Silence! Duke of Montrose, and lead me where you will; but be silent, I say. Honour is like fine steel--breathe upon it and the surface becomes stained. Sorely have you striven to stain the honour of Rob Roy; but you have striven in vain; for Rob will be remembered among these green mountains and in the hearts of the Gael--look down, O Heaven, and bless them!--when you, duke so venal and corrupt, will be remembered only as the enemy and oppressor of him you would destroy." "Egad, I like your spirit, MacGregor!" said Colonel Grahame, as he sheathed his sword with an emphatic jerk.