The moon had risen, and shed its light upon that lovely lake of many isles, on the vast shadowy masses of Ben Lomond and its wondrous scenery, through which the rugged pathway wound, overhung in some places by gloomy pines, by impending rocks, or the feathery sprays of the silver birch. With scorn and defiance of Montrose, certain emotions of pride and security swelled the heart of MacGregor, as he rode on; for again he was at home--in the home of the swordsman and shepherd--the abode of the wolf and the eagle, where yet, in the garb of old Gaul-- The hunter of deer and the warrior trod, To his hills that encircle the sea. From some points Loch Lomond resembled a great river, lying between lofty mountains, its bosom dotted with isles that are covered with trees, dark brushwood, or moss of emerald green. Bold headlands of rock seemed to jut forth in the water, which shone in the moonlight like a sheet of silver, and hills that were covered with wood filled up the background. And there, in the moonlight, lay the loveliest of all Loch Lomond's green and woody isles, the MacGregors' burying-place--the Place of Sleep, Inchcailloch, or the Isle of Nuns, with its ruined chapel and all its solemn trees. The Red MacGregor gazed on it wistfully, for there had all the dead of his persecuted clan been gathered, generation after generation, ever since the days of Donngheal, the son of King Alpin; and now he whipped his lagging horse, and ere long reached the narrow track which led to his home at Inversnaid. The stillness began to surprise him--no cattle lowed on the hills, no dog barked or bayed to the moon as she waded through the fleecy clouds, and one or two cottages, whose inmates he knew, seemed to have fallen in or been levelled. A strange foreboding of evil stole into his breast. At last his own house, with its whitewashed walls and its roof thatched with heather, rose before him in the glen; but no smoke curled from its chimneys--no light appeared in any of its windows, and all was solemnly and oppressively still in the homestead around it--still and silent as the islet of the dead that lay in the shining lake below. Dismounting, he led his horse by the bridle, and was about to approach the door, when three Highlanders appeared suddenly before him: one carried a gun, and was fully armed; the other two bore a dead deer, which was slung by the feet from the branch of a tree that rested on their shoulders. He with the gun came boldly forward, and demanded "who went there?" "The Red MacGregor," replied Rob, in Gaelic. "Inversnaid!" exclaimed the three men, joyously; and, dropping the deer, they almost embraced him, for they proved to be Greumoch and two other MacGregors, who were among his most trusted and valued followers. "What does all this mean?" he exclaimed; "why is my house shut, and where are the people?" "Ask Montrose!" said Greumoch, fiercely. "Montrose! I left him but a few hours ago in Strathblane," replied Rob.