of the boat,
when an old woman set up a cry for an oe that had been forgot in the
confusion, and was now, likely, crying in the solitude of the back
lands. It was the love-bairn of a dead mother, brought up in the kindly
Highland fashion, free of every gimel and kail-pot. Away skirted Betty
up the causeway of the Cadger's Quay, and in among the lanes for the
little one, and (I learned again) she found it playing well content
among puddled snow, chattering to itself in the loneliness of yon
war-menaced town. And she had but snatched it up to seek safety with her
in the boats when the full tide of Colkitto's robbers came pelting in
under the Arches. They cut her off from all access to the boats by that
way, so she turned and made for the other end of the town, hoping to
hail in her father's skiff when he had put far enough off shore to see
round the point and into the second bay.

We had but time to shout her apparent project to her father, when we
found ourselves fighting hand-to-hand against the Irish gentry in trews.
This was no market-day brawl, but a stark assault-at-arms. All in
the sound of a high wind, broken now and then with a rain blattering
even-down, and soaking through tartan and _clo-dubh_ we at it for dear
life. Of us Clan Campbell people, gentrice and commoners, and so many of
the Lowland mechanics of the place as were left behind, there would
be something less than two hundred, for the men who had come up the
loch-side to the summon of the beacons returned the way they came when
they found MacCailein gone, and hurried to the saving of wife and bairn.
We were all well armed with fusil and sword, and in that we had some
advantage of the caterans bearing down on us; for they had, for the
main part, but rusty matchlocks, pikes, billhooks--even bows and arrows,
antique enough contrivance for a time of civilised war! But they had
hunger and hate for their backers, good guidance in their own savage
fashion from MacDonald, and we were fighting on a half heart, a body
never trained together, and stupid to the word of command.

From the first, John took the head of our poor defence. He was
_duine-uasail_ enough, and he had, notoriously, the skill that earned
him the honour, even over myself (in some degree), and certainly over
Sir Donald.

The town-head fronted the upper bay, and between it and the grinding
ice on the shore lay a broad tract of what might be called esplanade,
presenting ample space for our enc