friends
hugged safety? Go on to London, still hoping, trusting still to the
glamour and outcry that ran before them, to extraordinary events
called miracles? Hot was the debate! But on the 6th of December the
Jacobite army turned back toward Scotland.

It began its homeward march long before dawn. Not all nor most had
been told the decision. Even the changed direction, eyes upon
slow-descending not upon climbing stars, did not at first enlighten.
It might mean some detour, the Duke being out-maneuvered. But at last
rose the winter dawn and lit remembered scene after scene. The news
ran. The army was in retreat.

Ian Rullock, riding with a kinsman, Gordon, heard, up and down, an
angry lamenting sound. "Little do the clans like turning back!"

"Hark! The chieftains are telling them it is for the best."

"Is it for the best? I do not like this month or aught that is done in
it!"

A week later they were at Lancaster; three days after that at Kendal.
Here Wade might have fallen upon them, but did not. A day or two and
the main column approached Penrith. The no great amount of artillery
was yet precious. Heavy to drag over heavy roads, the guns and
straining horses were left in the rear. Four companies of Lowland
infantry, Macdonald of Glengarry and his five hundred Highlanders, a
few cavalrymen, and Lord George Murray himself tarried with the guns.
The main column disappeared, lost among mountains and hills; this
detached number had the wild country, the forbidding road, the
December day to themselves. To get the guns and ammunition-wagons
along proved a snail-and-tortoise business. Guns and escort fell
farther and farther behind.

Ian Rullock, acting still as aide, rode from the Prince nearing
Penrith to Lord George Murray, now miles to the rear. Why was the
delay? and 'ware the Duke of Cumberland, certainly close at hand! The
delay was greater, the distance between farther, than the Prince had
supposed. Rullock rode through the late December afternoon by huge
frozen waves of earth, under a roof of pallid blue, in his ears a
small complaining wind like a wailing child. He rode till nightfall,
and only then came to his objective, finding needed rest in the
village of Shap. Here he sought Lord George Murray, gave information
and was given it in turn, ate, drank, and then turned back through the
December night to the Prince.

He rode and the huge winter stars seemed to watch him with at once a
glittering intentness a