men were now streaming to
the place of combat--some prepared to take the lives of their fellow
creatures or to lose their own, others to view the deadly strife with
the savage delight which the heathens took in the contests of their
gladiators.

The crowd was so great that any other person might well have despaired
of making way through it. But the general deference entertained for
Henry of the Wynd, as the champion of Perth, and the universal sense of
his ability to force a passage, induced all to unite in yielding room
for him, so that he was presently quite close to the warriors of the
Clan Chattan. Their pipers marched at the head of their column. Next
followed the well known banner, displaying a mountain cat rampant, with
the appropriate caution, "Touch not the cat, but (i.e. without) the
glove." The chief followed with his two handed sword advanced, as if to
protect the emblem of the tribe. He was a man of middle stature, more
than fifty years old, but betraying neither in features nor form any
decay of strength or symptoms of age. His dark red close curled locks
were in part chequered by a few grizzled hairs, but his step and gesture
were as light in the dance, in the chase, or in the battle as if he had
not passed his thirtieth year. His grey eye gleamed with a wild light
expressive of valour and ferocity mingled; but wisdom and experience
dwelt on the expression of his forehead, eyebrows, and lips. The chosen
champions followed by two and two. There was a cast of anxiety on
several of their faces, for they had that morning discovered the absence
of one of their appointed number; and, in a contest so desperate as was
expected, the loss seemed a matter of importance to all save to their
high mettled chief, MacGillie Chattanach.

"Say nothing to the Saxons of his absence," said this bold leader, when
the diminution of his force was reported to him. "The false Lowland
tongues might say that one of Clan Chattan was a coward, and perhaps
that the rest favoured his escape, in order to have a pretence to avoid
the battle. I am sure that Ferquhard Day will be found in the ranks ere
we are ready for battle; or, if he should not, am not I man enough for
two of the Clan Quhele? or would we not fight them fifteen to thirty,
rather than lose the renown that this day will bring us?"

The tribe received the brave speech of their leader with applause, yet
there were anxious looks thrown out in hopes of espying the return of