darkness and quiet of the night he would steal into the sleeping chamber
of Alpin and so deal with him that he would never again waken to claim
his dead father's lands. Roderic had learned from the Lady Adela that
her younger son, Kenric, was but a boy of sixteen, living with the
learned abbot of St. Blane's, and to the wicked earl of Gigha it seemed
that Kenric might be disposed of by very simple means.

But now, even after having slain his brother, he had failed in his
object. Instead of being king in Bute, he was a prisoner in the deepest
dungeon of Rothesay Castle.

The moor fowl had scarcely shaken the dew from off their wings ere the
two sons of the dead Earl Hamish were climbing the heathery heights
behind Rothesay. With them went the aged Dovenald, bearing in his arms a
young goat, white as the driven snow. When they were upon the topmost
knoll they stood a while. Dovenald laid down the bleating kid, whose
little feet were tethered one to the other, and he bade the two youths
go about and gather some dry twigs of heather and gorse that a fire
might be made.

A soft breeze from over the moorland played with the silvery locks of
the old man's bare head. He turned his face to the east and looked
across the gray waters of the Clyde, where above the hills of
Cunningham, the dawn was breaking into day. Southward then he gazed and
watched the giant mountains of Arran that were half shrouded in rosy
mists. Very soon the golden light of the rising sun kissed here and
there the jagged peaks of Goatfell, and Dovenald bent his head and
murmured a prayer, calling upon God to shed His light into the hearts of
men and to guide them in the solemn work they were called upon to fulfil
that day. Then he turned to Alpin.