he soldiers were evidently
in a restless state; and some of them uttered strange cries. Two men,
it is said, were overheard whispering. "I do not like this job;" one of
them muttered, "I should be glad to fight the Macdonalds. But to kill
men in their beds--" "We must do as we are bid," answered another voice.
"If there is any thing wrong, our officers must answer for it." John
Macdonald was so uneasy that, soon after midnight, he went to Glenlyon's
quarters. Glenlyon and his men were all up, and seemed to be getting
their arms ready for action. John, much alarmed, asked what these
preparations meant. Glenlyon was profuse of friendly assurances. "Some
of Glengarry's people have been harrying the country. We are getting
ready to march against them. You are quite safe. Do you think that, if
you were in any danger, I should not have given a hint to your brother
Sandy and his wife?" John's suspicions were quieted. He returned to his
house, and lay down to rest.

It was five in the morning. Hamilton and his men were still some miles
off; and the avenues which they were to have secured were open. But the
orders which Glenlyon had received were precise; and he began to execute
them at the little village where he was himself quartered. His host
Inverriggen and nine other Macdonalds were dragged out of their beds,
bound hand and foot, and murdered. A boy twelve years old clung round
the Captain's legs, and begged hard for life. He would do any thing;
he would go any where; he would follow Glenlyon round the world. Even
Glenlyon, it is said, showed signs of relenting; but a ruffian named
Drummond shot the child dead.

At Auchnaion the tacksman Auchintriater was up early that morning, and
was sitting with eight of his family round the fire, when a volley
of musketry laid him and seven of his companions dead or dying on the
floor. His brother, who alone had escaped unhurt, called to Serjeant
Barbour, who commanded the slayers, and asked as a favour to be allowed
to die in the open air. "Well," said the Serjeant, "I will do you that
favour for the sake of your meat which I have eaten." The mountaineer,
bold, athletic, and favoured by the darkness, came forth, rushed on the
soldiers who were about to level their pieces at him, flung his plaid
over their faces, and was gone in a moment.

Meanwhile Lindsay had knocked at the door of the old Chief and had asked
for admission in friendly language. The door was opened. Mac Ian,
while p