"

"No. We came overland."

"Had you heard of the fame of Malcolm's boat before you left
Stirling?"

"I did not say we left Stirling. As a matter of fact we left the small
village of Doune some miles to the north of it, and at that time had
heard nothing either of Malcolm or his boat."

"Hum," ejaculated the laird, rummaging among his papers on the table.
The king glancing in the direction of MacLeod's hands saw spread out
the charter which he himself had signed, giving MacLeod tenure of his
land, and beside it, as if this island magnate had been comparing the
signatures was the recent draft of the proclamation commending Malcolm
MacLeod's boat. This document Dunvegan passed to the Guidman of
Ballengeich.

"You know the king's writing perhaps? Will you tell me whether this
is, as I suspect, a forgery?"

James wrinkled his brows and examined the signature with minute care.
"I have seen the writing of his majesty," he said at last, "but
MacDonald here knows it better than I. What do you think of it,
Jamie?" he continued, passing on the parchment to his friend. "Is this
the real Mackay, or is it not?"

"It is," said MacDonald shortly and definitely.

"You say that is the actual signature of the king?" inquired MacLeod.

"I could swear it is as genuine as the one on your charter," replied
MacDonald.

"Well, now," said MacLeod leaning back in his chair, "will you resolve
a mystery for me? How is it likely that James Fifth ever heard of
Malcolm MacLeod's boat? and if he did, do you consider it probable
that an august monarch would compliment a Highland cateran's skill
with the axe?"

"James is a douce body," said the king, "and knows more of what is
going on in his realm than folk who think themselves wiser might
imagine."

"You hint, then," said MacLeod, drawing down his black brows, "that
his majesty may have spies in Skye?"

"Truth to tell, Laird of Dunvegan, it is more than likely," admitted
the king, with an air of great candour.

The frown on MacLeod's countenance deepened, and he said harshly,--

"You two gentlemen probably know the fate of spies when they are
captured. Their fate is a short shrift, and a long rope."

"And quite properly so," rejoined the king promptly.

"I am glad that you are so well informed, and need no instruction from
me," commented the Crottach with menace in his tone.

Suddenly the king's manner changed, and the air of authority which was
natural to him asserted itself.