The leader, a giant in stature, but fleet of foot and active as a roebuck, was a dark-visaged and savage-looking man, with eyebrows that met over his nose, and were shaggy as the moustache that curled round his fierce mouth, to mingle with his beard. His belted plaid was fastened by an antique silver brooch covered with twisted snakes, and silver tassels adorned his sporan, which was of otter-skin covered with white spots; and hence such skins are said in Scotland to belong to the king of the otters. "Keep your cur quiet, boy," said this formidable-looking fellow, "or I must put a bullet into him. Go on with your song, my girl, and don't be alarmed; we shall not harm you." "He is Duncan nan Creagh!" said Colin. "And our cattle will be taken," sobbed Oina. Indeed, while the boy and girl spoke their fears in whispers, the gillies, or followers of Duncan of the Forays, as he was named, ran round the cattle in a circle, driving them together, by holloing and striking them with cudgels or the flat sides of their claymores--occasionally using the point, to spur on the more lazy or refractory. Undaunted by the number of the caterans, Colin began to shout shrilly and wildly for succour; but aid was far off, and the echoes of the rocks alone replied. "Silence!" exclaimed Duncan MacRae, fiercely, "or I shall fling you into the pool, with a big stone at your neck!" The boy bravely brandished his skene, and dipping his bonnet in the rivulet, as a defence for his left hand, said,-- "Beware, you false cateran; these cattle are from the lands of Finlarig; and Finlarig belongs to Breadalbane." The tall cateran grinned, and replied,-- "Ay; but the beasties belong to the MacGregors----" "From whom all men may take their prey," added another. "True, MacAulay, and were they Breadalbane's own, every hoof and horn should be mine, even though he were here, with all the Clan Diarmed of the Boar at his back. Hear you that, my little man? But the Griogarich--wheeugh!" And the tall cateran snapped his fingers with contempt and grinned savagely, as he made a whistling sound. This action, and the slighting manner in which his clan was spoken of, made Colin tremble with rage. His ruddy cheek grew pale with emotion, and his eyes flashed with light. In pursuing a sturdy little bullock, one of the MacRaes dropped a pistol. Quick as lightning young Colin sprang forward, possessed himself of it, and fired full at the head of Duncan nan Creagh! The latter reeled, for the ball had pierced his bonnet, and grazed the scalp of his head, causing the blood to trickle over his sombre visage. Then, before he could recover himself, the fearless boy hurled the empty pistol, which was one of the heavy steel _tacks_ still worn with the Highland dress, at the cateran's head, which it narrowly missed.