"Ask no questions now! You shall hear all soon," said one of their flying escort; "you must first be safe." Gilbert was soon discovered to be in no condition to ask questions, or, indeed, more than endure so rough a journey. The wound, which in the excitement of their rescue he had thought little of, was bleeding profusely, and he turned presently very faint from pain and weakness. In astonishment at his fortitude, so far, the riders halted behind a pile of crags, and the hurt was looked to hastily by two young men. The bullet had entered the breast, glancing from the shoulder, and its dislodgement must be a work of better opportunity. They supported Gilbert on his horse for the rest of the way, he enduring the increasing torment and weakness manfully. But Andrew was not a little alarmed to see how much his father suffered and how haggard grew his face. They had, however, chance for but a few words now; Gilbert's resolution keeping up the speed of the party at a high rate, and mounted or unmounted members of it hurrying along with an astonishingly equal rapidity. After half an hour's ride they galloped through a ravine where it was a miracle to find a track, so savage and sombre were the surroundings. Next, a deep glen began opening below them. From those beside them neither father nor son could yet gain a syllable of explanation as to how they had come to them in their extreme need nor whither they sped; indeed, all of them spoke a particularly guttural Gaelic. But with the certainty that he and his father were delivered, there came a new hope into Andrew's heart. Nor was that hope checked. For, presently, flushed and breathless from their downward career, he and Gilbert suddenly passed through a vast cleft, some rods wide, between two cliffs at the foot of the last mountain-spur. A rude camp lay before them. Men and women, and even children, were moving about in it, and spoil of all sorts seemed to be piled up under the shelter of booths and trees. "Huzzah!" rang a welcome to their guards. "Huzzah!" replied the latter's shout, the horsemen throwing themselves to the turf; some of the band talking boisterously in Gaelic, others assisting the two Boyds to dismount and paying solicitous heed to Gilbert's suffering state. Andrew set his feet on the earth. And then out from a hut hurried a dozen men, whose bearing at once asserted high rank and broken fortunes. But the foremost figure outsped them and ran forward, and caught Andrew in an embrace, amid an acclaim, "God save the Prince!" and all about Andrew and his father men and women were kneeling upon the green sod. "Oh, my lord, my lord!" cried Andrew, looking up into Sir Geoffry's face; "are you here? God be praised!"