Chapter LII: Invernentie Punished

Great was the exultation of the MacGregors, and with wild halloos of triumph they crowded about their leader, who, with his characteristic generosity, was one of the first to proffer assistance to the wounded chief.

As the parties separated, Invernentie was whipping up his Highland garron, preparatory to taking a speedy leave, when Greumoch inserted the hook of his Lochaber axe in the collar of his coat, and roughly tumbled him on the roadway.

Enraged by such treatment, MacLaren drew his dirk, and was rushing on his captor, when the latter charged the pikehead of the axe full at his breast, and would have killed him without mercy, but for the interference of Campbell of Aberuchail and Rob Roy, who desired his followers to seize and convey him to a small inn which stood at the head of the strath; and there, as night was closing, MacLaren found himself abandoned by his companions, helpless, and a prisoner of the easily exasperated MacGregors, all somewhat excitable Celts,

whose patience
Was apt to wear out on trifling occasions.

Hamish MacLaren, a dark, fierce, and resolute fellow, asked Rob Roy, sternly, "for what purpose he had been separated from his friends, disarmed, and brought as a prisoner to this solitary house?"

"Because, in the first place," said Rob, calmly, "I wish to speak with you; and, in the second place, to punish you if you do not take my advice."

"In what matter--dioul!--in what matter?" demanded MacLaren, knitting his black brows till his gleaming eyes were almost hidden by them.

"The matter of the bond----"

"Which I hold over the lands of Grahame of Glengyle?"

"No; I know nothing of _that_ document," replied Rob, twirling one of his pistols ominously round his forefinger by the trigger guard.

"Then to what do you refer?"

"To the bond which you allege to hold over the lands of my sick nephew, Gregor _MacGregor_ of Glengyle."

"Well--well?"

"Hamish MacLaren of Invernentie," said Rob, making a great effort to appear calm, "I have here the money to release this bond."

"But I decline it--the time has expired," said MacLaren, doggedly.

"It may have expired _now_," said Rob Roy; "but it had not expired when, more than three months ago, Glengyle offered you the money, principal and interest."

"I told him----"

"A falsehood--a black lie, Invernentie! You told him the bond was lost, when it was, and still is, in your charter-box; and now I swear, by the Grey Stone of MacGregor, that until you produce that bond, we part not company, in life at least!"

MacLaren's breast swelled with rage and spite. His face grew ashy white, and the veins of his forehead were swollen like whipcord, with the baffled avarice and passion he strove in vain to conceal.

"Allow me to return to Invernentie," said he, in a husky voice and with averted eyes, "and I shall send hither the bond, if I can find it."

"Nay, we part not company until it is produced _here_; and if that fails to be done, you shall go back to Invernentie heels foremost."

"How mean you?"

"In your coffin," replied MacGregor, with a dark and terrible frown.

Aware that he had to deal with one who did not stand on trifles, MacLaren, apprehensive for the result, agreed that two of his servants (who had ventured to the inn), accompanied by Coll and Greumoch, should go to the house of Invernentie and get the bond, while he remained as Rob's hostage in Strathfillan.

They were absent some time, as Invernentie (which means the conflux of dark waters) was several miles distant; but on the evening of the second day they returned with the bond, and placed it in the hands of MacLaren, who, without opening it, tossed it across the table to Rob Roy, saying, sullenly,--

"Here is your precious document, and now let me begone."

"Not quite so fast--tarry, I pray you," said Rob, as he read over the paper, examined it in every particular, tore it into minute fragments, and scattered them over the clay floor of the room.

"Now," he added, "here is the money of Glengyle."

"I shall record the discharge of the debt in the books of the sheriff," said MacLaren, rising and putting on his bonnet.

"You and the sheriff may do exactly as you please," said Rob; "in fact you have my full permission to hang yourselves, if it suits your fancy; but, in the meantime, give me a discharge in full for the money which you lent my nephew, Gregor _MacGregor_ of Glengyle."

Invernentie, who had some other roguish scheme in his head, most unwillingly wrote and signed the required quittance, which Rob carefully read, folded, and put in his pocket, together _with the bag of money_, telling him that now he would not pay him a farthing--"that the sum lost was too small a fine for the outrage he had attempted to perpetrate in form of law, and that he might be thankful that he escaped with a sound skin."

They separated. MacLaren was choking with resentment, and vowed to have a terrible revenge; but Rob and his men merely laughed at him, as they marched off towards their new home on the braes of Balquhidder.