Enraged by such treatment, MacLaren drew his dirk, and was rushing on his captor, when the latter charged the pikehead of the axe full at his breast, and would have killed him without mercy, but for the interference of Campbell of Aberuchail and Rob Roy, who desired his followers to seize and convey him to a small inn which stood at the head of the strath; and there, as night was closing, MacLaren found himself abandoned by his companions, helpless, and a prisoner of the easily exasperated MacGregors, all somewhat excitable Celts, whose patience Was apt to wear out on trifling occasions. Hamish MacLaren, a dark, fierce, and resolute fellow, asked Rob Roy, sternly, "for what purpose he had been separated from his friends, disarmed, and brought as a prisoner to this solitary house?" "Because, in the first place," said Rob, calmly, "I wish to speak with you; and, in the second place, to punish you if you do not take my advice." "In what matter--dioul!--in what matter?" demanded MacLaren, knitting his black brows till his gleaming eyes were almost hidden by them. "The matter of the bond----" "Which I hold over the lands of Grahame of Glengyle?" "No; I know nothing of _that_ document," replied Rob, twirling one of his pistols ominously round his forefinger by the trigger guard. "Then to what do you refer?" "To the bond which you allege to hold over the lands of my sick nephew, Gregor _MacGregor_ of Glengyle." "Well--well?" "Hamish MacLaren of Invernentie," said Rob, making a great effort to appear calm, "I have here the money to release this bond." "But I decline it--the time has expired," said MacLaren, doggedly. "It may have expired _now_," said Rob Roy; "but it had not expired when, more than three months ago, Glengyle offered you the money, principal and interest." "I told him----" "A falsehood--a black lie, Invernentie! You told him the bond was lost, when it was, and still is, in your charter-box; and now I swear, by the Grey Stone of MacGregor, that until you produce that bond, we part not company, in life at least!" MacLaren's breast swelled with rage and spite. His face grew ashy white, and the veins of his forehead were swollen like whipcord, with the baffled avarice and passion he strove in vain to conceal. "Allow me to return to Invernentie," said he, in a husky voice and with averted eyes, "and I shall send hither the bond, if I can find it." "Nay, we part not company until it is produced _here_; and if that fails to be done, you shall go back to Invernentie heels foremost." "How mean you?" "In your coffin," replied MacGregor, with a dark and terrible frown. Aware that he had to deal with one who did not stand on trifles, MacLaren, apprehensive for the result, agreed that two of his servants (who had ventured to the inn), accompanied by Coll and Greumoch, should go to the house of Invernentie and get the bond, while he remained as Rob's hostage in Strathfillan.