CAMPBELL (_as one speaking his thoughts aloud_). I've been beaten for a' that. A strange thing, noo. Beforehand I would ha'e said naething could be easier. And yet--and yet--there it is!... It would have been a grand stroke for me.... Cluny--Keppoch--Lochiel, and maybe ... maybe--Hell! when I think of it! Just a whispered word--a mere pointed finger would ha'e telled a'. But no! their visions, their dreams beat me. "You'll be adding to your experience to-night, Mr. Campbell, and have something to put to the other side of it," says he; aye, and by God I have added something to it, and it is a thing I like but little--that a dream can be stronger than a strong man armed.--Here come I, Archibald Campbell of Kilmhor, invested with authority as law-officer of the Crown, bearing in my hand the power of life and death, fire and the sword, backed up by the visible authority of armed men, and yet I am powerless before the dreams of an old woman and a half-grown lad--soldiers and horses and the gallows and yellow gold are less than the wind blowing in their faces.--It is a strange thing that: it is a thing I do not understand.--It is a thing fit to sicken a man against the notion that there are probabeelities on this earth.--have been beaten for a' that. Aye, the pair o' them have beat me--though it's a matter of seconds till one of them be dead. MORAG (_starting into upright position and staring at him; her voice is like an echo to his_). Dead! CAMPBELL (_turning hastily_). What is that! MORAG. Is he dead? CAMPBELL (_grimly_). Not yet, but if ye'll look through this window (_he indicates window_) presently, ye'll see him gotten ready for death. (_He begins to collect articles of personal property, hat, etc._) MORAG. I will tell you. CAMPBELL (_astounded_). What! MORAG. I will tell you all you are seeking to know. CAMPBELL (_quietly_). Good God, and to think, to think I was on the very act--in the very act of--tell me--tell me at once. MORAG. You will promise that he will not be hanged? CAMPBELL. He will not. I swear it. MORAG. You will give him back to me? CAMPBELL. I will give him back unhung. MORAG. Then (CAMPBELL _comes near_), in a corrie half-way up the far side of Dearig--God save me! CAMPBELL. Dished after a'. I've clean dished them! Loard, Loard! once more I can believe in the rationality of Thy world. (_Gathers up again his cloak, hat, etc._) And to think--to think--I was on the very act of going away like a beaten dog! MORAG. He is safe from hanging now? CAMPBELL (_chuckles and looks out at window before replying, and is at door when he speaks_). Very near it, very near it. Listen! (_He holds up his hand--a volley of musketry is heard. KILMHOR goes out, closing the door behind him. After a short interval of silence the old woman enters and advances a few steps._) MARY STEWART. Did you hear, Morag Cameron, did you hear? (_The girl is sobbing, her head on her arms._)