lain whose evil deeds were blacker and more
terrible than any the oldest man in Bute had ever known.

But ere they had turned either point of the lake Roderic had already
gained the firm ground on the western shore, and now he shook the water
from him and sat down on a large stone to rest his limbs and to dress
his bleeding wounds.

Soon he heard the rumour of men's angry cries coming nearer and nearer,
like the yelping of a pack of wolves. Rising and looking about him he
saw many men running towards him from north and from south through the
dingle of Lochly; and now most surely he might think that he was
entrapped, for he was upon the strip of land that divides Loch Ascog
from Loch Fad.

His deep voice rang out across the moorland like the bellowing call of
the stag that challenges his rival in the glens. Bracing his long sword
about his back he crossed westward over the rising ground until he came
in view of the quiet waters of Loch Fad, where a flock of wild swans,
startled at his approach, flew over towards the forest of Barone.

The two companies of islanders closed in upon him, believing doubtless
that he would be speedily overcome. The one band was led by Sir Oscar
Redmain and his son, the other by Duncan Graham and Kenric.

Roderic ran onward to the water's edge, and ere the first stone that was
thrown could reach him he had plunged into Loch Fad, and as he swam
outward stones and clods of turf fell in showers about his head. A stone
thrown by Kenric struck him on the helmet. He sank deep down, and all
believed that the water would be his death. But, like the diver bird of
his native seas, he went under but to appear again many yards away
beyond the reach of any weapon but the arrow, and of arrows there were
none in all that company.

Now Loch Fad, which is the largest of the lakes of Bute, is full two
miles long and but four furlongs wide, and it was useless for any to
think of meeting the fugitive earl on the farther shore. So at the
bidding of Sir Oscar Redmain the men all gave up the chase and turned
back to where the dead body of Lord Alpin lay prone upon the turf, and
thence they bore him to the castle of Rothesay.

CHAPTER X. AASTA'S CURSE.

Roderic of Gigha, for all that he had been absent from Bute for a score
of years, had not forgotten the old landmarks that had been familiar to
him in boyhood. After swimming across Loch Fad he found himself among
the tall pine trees of the forest of Ba