Stuart on that morning had wandered from the encampment to some distance, where he was enjoying the appearance of solitude, so like that of his "Highland home," which reigned far and wide around him. The vast hills rose on every side, heaving their green summits to the sky. A death-like stillness prevailed, save when now and then broken by the scream of a wild bird, the hollow flap of a partridge’s wing, or the faint and far-off tinkle of a mountain rill murmuring through some solitary gorge, leaping from rock to rock as it descended to the bright plains of Gascony or Bearn. For nearly an hour he had wandered about there, when his solitary reveries were broken by the sound of a distant shot, the echoes of which rang among the splintered rocks and grassy peaks, recalling him at once to the present; and he hurried away to the camp, where the brigade was getting under arms, the soldiers mustering with their usual rapidity and coolness, without betraying the least surprise or confusion. From an out-picquet the word had been passed that the French "were in motion in front," and the fixing of fresh flints, snapping of locks, unrolling and examining of ammunition, gave token of every preparation being made to receive them with all due honour. Nearly an hour elapsed, and no more was seen or heard of the foe. All began to suppose it a false alarm, and many of the officers went forward to the outposts to reconnoitre. "Where are the enemy now, Armstrong?" asked Cameron of an officer of the 71st, commanding the picquet which had given the alarm. "In which direction did you see them?" "Directly north, and far down on the French side," replied the other, pointing with his sword. "We distinctly saw a strong party pass yon defile between the mountains: the glitter of their arms was apparent to us all." "I’m afraid their feet were cloven," observed Seaton. "I see nothing but a herd of cattle crossing the defile you speak of." "Horned nowte, just black short-legged Argyleshires," said Dugald, who, as usual, was close to Cameron’s skirts. "I see them plain aneuch mysel, sirs; but the loons may be amang the hills for a’ that." A loud laugh arose at the old man’s observations. "Well, gentlemen," said Armstrong, while his cheek reddened with anger, and he cast a furious glance on Dugald Mhor, "you are all at liberty to think as you please; but I tell you that there are cattle among the hills carrying bayonets on their horns, and that such is the fact, some here may learn to their cost, ere long." "What fire the borderer displays," said Ronald, as Armstrong left the group abruptly; "and here is Alister his sub, quite fierce likewise about the matter." "Search round," chimed in Campbell, in the same tone of jest; "search about, and probably we shall find the pig-skin at the bottom of which they saw the enemy. I remember once in Egypt, that old Ludovick Lisle—"