"Ivan McAllister," said his father, "I thought ye had mair common sense,
though it is rare in lads o' your age. Ye can never imagine that a pack
o' young idiots are going to overturn the whole country."

"No, sir, I do not, but a mighty army is to join us from the south; in
England Prince Chairlie has many friends, and to-morrow I go to join
them. The next day a mighty host will move to the west coast to welcome
our future King. And then----"

"Do you know, Ivan, that by your mad folly you seriously endanger the
McAllister estates? An' though it is well known at court that I am not
a Jacobite, yet I have many enemies who will soon tell the King my son
is with the rebels. You endanger, too, your brother Nowell's position at
court."

"Well, father, I have promised to go, and a McAllister never breaks his
word."

"What! you are determined? You persist in your selfish course of folly?
You will go in spite of all I say?"

"Yes, father, I must go, my word is pledged."

The McAllister's ruddy face grew white with anger, he clenched his hands
as if he would strike his son and by main force reduce him to obedience,
then with a great effort he controlled his anger and said in an ominously
calm voice: "Then, Ivan McAllister, I tell ye, never mair shall ye set
foot in this house, at least, when I am above ground; never mair call
yourself son of mine, and may----" raising his right hand solemnly as