nd
pony, the girl's face, perhaps not altogether unintentionally, touched
that of Frank Osbaldistone. She pressed his hand, and a tear that had
gathered on Die Vernon's eyelash found its way to the young man's
cheek."]

He laughed heartily at the exploits of the Bailie and the red-hot
coulter in the inn of Aberfoil, and at the apprehension of Frank and his
companion by the King's officer.

"As man lives by bread," he cried, "the buzzards have mistaken my friend
the Bailie for his Excellency, and you for Diana Vernon--oh, the most
egregious night owlets!"

"Miss Vernon," said Frank, trying to gain what information he could,
"does she still bear that name?"

But the wary Highlander easily evaded him.

"Ay, ay," he said, "she's under lawful authority now; and it's time, for
she's a daft hempie. It's a pity that his Excellency is a thought
elderly for her. The like of you or my son Hamish would have sorted
better in point of years."

This blow, which destroyed all Frank's hopes, quite silenced him--so
much so that Rob Roy had to ask if he were ill or wearied with the long
day's work, being, as he said, "doubtless unused to such things."

But in order to divert his attention Mac-Gregor asked him as to the
skirmish, and what had happened afterwards. It was with genuine agony
that Rob Roy listened to the tale which Frank had to tell--though he
modified, as far as he could, the treatment the Bailie and himself had
met with from the Mac-Gregors.

"And the excise collector," said Rob Roy; "I wish he may not have been
at the bottom of the ploy himself! I thought he looked very queer when I
told him that he must remain as a hostage for my safe return. I wager he
will not get off without ransom!"

"Morris," said Frank, with great solemnity, "has paid the last great
ransom of all!"

"Eh--what?" cried the Mac-Gregor, "what d'ye say? I trust it was in the
skirmish that he was killed?"

"He was slain in cold blood, after the fight was over, Mr. Campbell!"

"Cold blood!" he muttered rapidly between his teeth, "how fell this?
Speak out, man, and do not Mister or Campbell me--my foot is on my
native heath, and my name is Mac-Gregor!"

Without noticing the rudeness of his tone, Frank gave him a distinct
account of the death of Morris. Rob Roy struck the butt of his gun with
great vehemence on the ground, and broke out, "I vow to God, such a deed
might make one forswear kin, clan, country, wife, and bairns! And yet
the vill