All the Stewarts had thistles in their bonnets; the MacLarens had laurel leaves, and their war-cry, "Craig Tuirc! Craig Tuirc!" was shouted fiercely by a hundred tongues, for they were eager to engage. Conspicuous in front of the MacGregors stood Rob Roy, in his waving tartans; his once ruddy beard was now white with time, but his strong form was erect as ever. Anxious to avoid bloodshed, when the adverse clans were about a hundred yards apart he stepped resolutely forward, sheathed his sword and requested Stewart of Appin to meet him half-way. Stewart accordingly sheathed his weapon, and also stepped forward from his line. "Appin," said Rob, "I am deeply grieved that those who bear the royal name should come as invaders into the land of Clan Alpine, whose race is also royal. Our forefathers were friends, and stood side by side in battle on the braes of Rannoch. The same inscription is on both our sword-blades--see," he added, showing the favourite legend, usually carved on all Scottish swords between 1707 and 1746,-- "PROSPERITY TO SCOTLAND, AND NO UNION." "I have come but to right my kinsman Invernentie, and restore to him the lands of which your people have reft him," replied Appin. "Those lands were ours of old, Appin. But hearken! we are all loyal men to _the King_, and it were a pity we should weaken our mutual strength by mortal conflict, so I shall consent that Hamish MacLaren hold the lands of Invernentie at an easy quit-rent." "To that will I agree blythely," said Appin, who was a tall, brave, and handsome man, dressed in scarlet Stewart tartan, with a grass-green coat covered with gold lace, and who had in his bonnet a white rose, with the three feathers of his rank. "'Tis well--so there's my thumb on't," said Rob, as they shook hands. "But now," he added, "as we have here so many gallant men in arms, it will be a shameful thing if we all separate 'thout a trial of skill; so I here take the liberty of inviting any gentleman Stewart to exchange a few blows with me for the honour of our respective clans." On this, Appin's brother-in-law, Alaster of Invernahyle, sprang forward, exclaiming,-- "I accept the challenge!" "Good; and we shall lower our swords when the first blood is drawn." The pipers struck up on both sides, as the two combatants engaged with claymore, dirk, and target; but in a few minutes the red blood spirted from the sword-arm of Rob Roy, who immediately lowered his blade, and said,-- "I congratulate you, Alaster of Invernahyle, on being one of the very few who have drawn blood from the veins of Rob Roy." "Nay," said Stewart, as he offered his handkerchief to bind up the wound, "without the advantages which youth and its agility give me, I had come off with neither honour nor safety."