n M'Rae, and their
country lay to the south of our estates. It was an ill-fated day for both
clans when one morning a stalwart Highlander, flying from glen to glen
with the fiery cross waving aloft, brought a missive to the chief of
Coila. The Raes had been summoned to meet their prince; the M'Crimman had
been _solicited_. In two hours' time the straths were all astir with
preparations for the march. No boy or man who could carry arms, 'twixt the
ages of sixteen and sixty, but buckled his claymore to his side and made
ready to leave. Listen to the wild shout of the men, the shrill notes of
bagpipes, the wailing of weeping women and children! Oh, it was a stirring
time; my Scotch blood leaps in all my veins as I think of it even now.
Right on our side; might on our side! We meant to do or die!

'Rise! rise! lowland and highland men!
Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early.
Rise! rise! mainland and island men,
Belt on your claymores and fight for Prince Charlie.
Down from the mountain steep--
Up from the valley deep--
Out from the clachan, the bothy and shieling;
Bugle and battle-drum,
Bid chief and vassal come,
Loudly our bagpipes the pibroch are pealing.'

M'Crimman of Coila that evening met the Raes hastening towards the lake.

'Ah, kinsman,' cried M'Crimman, 'this is indeed a glorious day! I have
been summoned by letter from the royal hands of our bold young prince
himself.'

'And I, chief of the Raes, have been summoned by cross. A letter was none
too good for Coila. Strathtoul must be content to follow the pibroch and
drum.'

'It was an oversight. My brother must neither fret nor fume. If our prince
but asked me, I'd fight in the ranks for him, and carry musket or pike or
pistol.'

[Illustration: Ray lay Stark and Stiff]

'It's good being you, with your letter and all that. Kinsman though you
be, I'd have you know, and I'd have our prince understand, that the Raes
and Crimmans are one and the same family, and equal where they stand or
fall.'

'Of that,' said the proud Coila, drawing himself up and lowering his
brows, 'our prince is the best judge.'

'These are pretty airs to give yourself, M'Crimman! One would think your
claymore drank blood every morning!'

'Brother,' said M'Crimman, 'do not let us quarrel. I have orders to see
your people on the march. They are to come with u