as promptly as the kilted savages responded to the summons of their
chieftain, Rob Roy Macgregor Campbell.

Whatever wild fancies the two boy prisoners might have had in their
minds, this startling phenomenon effectually drove them away.

And fortunate it was, too, for them.

Hunston called a halt.

The men were nothing loth.

The road they had traversed was steep and rugged, and it had perhaps
told less upon the two boy prisoners than upon any of the party.

The brigands sat and refreshed.

They made a hearty meal of cold meat and coarse bread and herbs, and
they drank of their wine from the skins until their swarthy faces
flushed purple; and whilst they feasted and made merry, the captives
were constrained to look on--in envy perhaps--but not to share the
banquet.

Hunger fell upon them.

But the boys guessed that their sufferings would only give pleasure to
their captors, and so they kept their troubles in this particular to
themselves.

"Tighten your belt," said Harry Girdwood; "squeeze your stomach, Jack,