e blood of the same enemies--it is
IMPOSSIBLE I should harm him!"

"That you WILL do so," answered Ranald, "is certain, though the cause be
hid in the darkness of futurity. You say," he continued, suppressing his
own emotions with difficulty, "that side by side you have pursued your
prey like bloodhounds--have you never seen bloodhounds turn their fangs
against each other, and fight over the body of a throttled deer?"

"It is false!" said M'Aulay, starting up, "these are not the forebodings
of fate, but the temptation of some evil spirit from the bottomless
pit!" So saying, he strode out of the cabin.

"Thou hast it!" said the Son of the Mist, looking after him with an
air of exultation; "the barbed arrow is in thy side! Spirits of the
slaughtered, rejoice! soon shall your murderers' swords be dyed in each
other's blood."

On the succeeding morning all was prepared, and Montrose advanced by
rapid marches up the river Tay, and poured his desultory forces into the
romantic vale around the lake of the same name, which lies at the head
of that river. The inhabitants were Campbells, not indeed the vassals
of Argyle, but of the allied and kindred house of Glenorchy, which
now bears the name of Breadalbane. Being taken by surprise, they were
totally unprepared for resistance, and were compelled to be passive
witnesses of the ravages which took place among their flocks and herds.
Advancing in this manner to the vale of Loch Dochart, and laying waste
the country around him, Montrose reached the most difficult point of his
enterprise.

To a modern army, even with the assistance of the good military road
which now leads up by Teinedrum to the head of Loch Awe, the passage of
these extensive wilds would seem a task of some difficulty. But at this
period, and for long afterwards, there was no road or path whatsoever;
and to add to the difficulty, the mountains were already covered with
snow. It was a sublime scene to look up to them, piled in great masses,
one upon another, the front rank of dazzling whiteness, while those
which arose behind them caught a rosy tint from the setting of a clear
wintry sun. Ben Cruachan, superior in magnitude, and seeming the very
citadel of the Genius of the Region, rose high above the others, showing
his glimmering and scathed peak to the distance of many miles.

The followers of Montrose were men not to be daunted by the sublime, yet
terrible prospect before them. Many of them were of that anc