In the shocked silence which followed, Hamish forgot his comforting grip on the poor wee frightened lass for an instant, and in that instant the poor wee frightened lass vanished.

She crouched on the far side of a rhododendron bush, tensed and ready for further flight. For the moment, it was best not to move again, for there was silence beside the river, and she dared make no noise that might call attention to herself. Och, the good luck of it! And a fine chance there was that, with this news, no one would think of her again at all.

“Impossible!” said Argyll. His voice was thin.

“It is true, Mac Cailein Mor!” insisted the messenger. “On the north slope of Ben Nevis it was, his army ran into our outpost, and some of our scouts escaped and came to warn us.”

“Impossible,” repeated Argyll more thinly yet. “He couldn’t. He went up the Great Glen, and he hasn’t come back down it. And there’s no other way he could have come in this cold and snow—not with an army and horses and cannon. It’s not humanly possible.”

There was a good deal of sense in this. Even Kelpie, still as a bogle behind her bush, frowned in puzzlement. How could Montrose have come so quickly, and not through the Great Glen? Over the bitter impassable mountains, then? Och, Glen Roy, it must be! Argyll didn’t know this country as she did, and as the Camerons and MacDonalds would. Through Glen Roy, then—and it was next to impossible even then, but if anyone at all could do it, then it would be Montrose and his Highlanders, and she the cause of it all, with her message! She hugged herself silently.

“It couldna be the army,” said an Edinburgh voice soothingly. “Gin ’tis Montrose at all, which I doot, ’tis a mere handfu’ o’ wild Hieland thieves he could ha’ brought, and we’ll wipe ’em oot the morn.”

“Still and all,” came another voice, “it might be best for you to be going on board your galley, your Lordship. You’ve an injured shoulder, remember, and you’re too valuable to risk your life in a mere skirmish.”

“You may be right.” There was unmistakable relief in Argyll’s voice, and Kelpie lifted her short lip in contempt. “I can put you in charge, Auchinbreck, and send commands from my galley. Who is that over there?”

His voice rose sharply, and Kelpie’s hair stood on end until she heard Hamish’s apologetic answer. “Hamish Campbell, just, with a MacDonald I found skulking up near the Spean River, and I thinking you might be wanting to see him.”

“A MacDonald?” Auchinbreck’s voice was incisive. “Aye, he’s likely a scout for Montrose and may be able to tell us something. Will you speak to him, your Lordship?”

“Later,” said Argyll. “Take him down to the shelter by the loch and stay there yourselves on guard. See that no one goes near the galley, and I’ll question the prisoner before I go board.”

There was a crunch of snow as Argyll and his party started back toward the castle, and then a pause. “Why isn’t he tied?” came Argyll’s voice accusingly.

“Och, your Lordship, he has a hurt foot, and it would be too hard to carry him this whole way if—”

“He could have been shamming, you fool!” Argyll was furious. “Tie him now.”

He went on, leaving the other group of dark shapes where they stood. “Well, so, and himself was saying ‘now,’” muttered Hamish, “so now it is, my lad. We’ll have your two hands behind you. Were you shamming?”

“Not a whit,” said Alex coolly. “I’d have left you before this, if I were.”

“Well, I almost have it in my heart to pity you, just for your courage, though you’re a cursed MacDonald. Angus, where’s the wee lass?”

“She was off and away at the word Montrose,” reported Angus, “and no wonder. She’s frighted even of our army and will be in terror of his. She’ll no be staying for a battle.”

“Och, she’ll freeze, just, poor amadain!” said Hamish worriedly. “And she could have been staying at the shelter with us, and quite safe. Well, so. Come away now.”

They moved off toward the loch, leaving Kelpie to figure out her new situation.

It was a great improvement, surely, but hardly rosy. If only the weather were warm, there would be no problem at all. She could set off for safety, leaving Alex just where she wanted him, and Montrose over behind the mountain to settle with Argyll after Argyll had settled with Alex. But it was cold! And there would be no shelter near, what with all the homes burned. And she didn’t want to freeze.

An hour earlier she would gladly have taken the chance, gladly frozen, even, in preference to meeting Argyll. But now that she was out of danger from him for the moment, she wanted to live, and how could she be arranging it? If it were not for Alex, she might slip down to the shelter after all, and just hide when Argyll came. But Alex would not miss another chance to betray her. He had delayed too long once before, and he must be cursing himself for it.

But she had to do something! Shivering, she got to her feet and silently followed an orange glimmer down near the loch. Och, a fire! Kelpie hurried her steps until she could see the ruins of a shieling hut, one side open to the night, but with a warm fire just at the edge, where the fireplace had once stood. Alex, well bound now, was lying against one wall, and the other men were grouped around. As she watched, they began taking food from their pouches.

In an agony of indecision, Kelpie crouched in the bushes, just too far away to feel the warmth of the fire, but she didn’t dare to go closer. She could almost wish Alex free, so that—

Her eyes widened. Alex had turned over to face the wall and was unmistakably settling down to sleep! How could he? Reluctantly Kelpie admired him for it. He was a bad one, but for all that he had a cool courage that was fine.

She waited a few minutes more; then she had to get warm! And Alex seemed to be truly asleep. Standing up, she raised her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Hamish!”

He was up, his ruddy face turning to search the bushes. “The wee lass! Are you frozen, just? Come away to the fire. It was gey foolish of you to run off.”

She came, rubbing her numbed hands in the heavenly warmth, even though it made them hurt sorely. “I was affrighted,” she explained, “of Montrose, and of all the men, and of Mac Cailen Mor, and even of him.” She nodded toward Alex. “Please, if anyone comes, could I not be hiding away at the back behind the walls until they go?”

“Ou, aye,” said Hamish tolerantly, “if you’re so frighted as all that.”

It was nearly morning, and Kelpie had napped a little herself and was warm and fed (with a wary eye on the sleeping Alex), before voices and steps announced a party coming from the castle. In a flash she was around behind the ruined shieling, just at the corner where she could hear everything and even see a bit. She would be safe enough from now on, for although it was still dark enough to escape, the faintest of gray appeared over the stern dome of Ben Nevis, and the peaks farther south were beginning to show starkly black against the lighter clouds. The night was over, and she could afford to stay and watch what happened to Alex.

“Put my things aboard,” ordered Argyll’s cold voice. “I’ll be along as soon as I see to this prisoner. Where is he?”

“Here, asleep,” replied Hamish humbly. “Wake you up, MacDonald! Mac Cailein Mor wants to talk to you.”

Apparently Alex awoke as Kelpie always did, all at once, for there was no trace of sleepiness in his voice. “Well, then, and let us talk,” he returned casually.

Kelpie knew that his coolness would enrage Argyll, who repeatedly fled danger and was about to do it again. This would go hard with Alex. She must see! There was a hole in the wall, just at the corner, where a stone had fallen out, and surely no one would be noticing a wee eye in the dark!

She applied the eye to the hole. Sure enough, Argyll’s pale face was twisted with anger, the habitual sneer deeper than usual. And Alex had that faintly amused smile on his face, despite bound hands and swollen foot, and despite his fear.

“Your name?” asked Argyll harshly.

“Alexander MacDonald of Ardochy on Loch Garry,” replied Alex proudly.

“So. Son of a chieftain, then. And what were you doing skulking in Lochaber?”

“Nursing a sprained ankle,” replied Alex, still with a faint smile, “and hoping to be overlooked by your men.”

“You knew we were here, then?” Argyll pounced upon the idea like a man looking for an excuse to unleash a storm of venom. And there was no doubt he had his victim. Kelpie’s revenge would be better than she had ever dreamed! She pressed closer to her peephole to see if Alex’s face would betray fear. But he just lifted a sandy eyebrow.

“Could anyone not be knowing you were here, with the smoke of burning homes rising like the plague?” he retorted reasonably.

“You are one of Montrose’s men!” Argyll said accusingly, and Kelpie found herself thinking of the things Alex might answer to that. He would never claim to be a Covenanter, proud fool that he was, but he could say he was not with Montrose, that he never had been, that he had had a quarrel with the Camerons—any number of things. But he said none of them. Did he not know that his silence would seem an admission of guilt? Kelpie fumed at his stupidity before she remembered that—this time—she was on Argyll’s side.

“You are a spy left behind!” Argyll went on threateningly. “It was you warned him we were here!”

“I wish I had been the one,” confessed Alex wryly. “I would not be here if I had. But since I am here, and not with Montrose, that is clearly nonsense.”

“Don’t quibble with me!” Argyll was in a cold rage, the cruel, bullying streak in him showing clear. “You were responsible. You hurt your foot and sent someone else with the message.”

In the gleam of the fire, Alex’s jaw moved up and outward a fraction. “I would have done so,” he retorted proudly, “but that I could find no one to send.”

“You’ll not save your life that way.” There was wintry satisfaction in Argyll’s face. “Unless you can produce the guilty party and prove your innocence ...” The sentence went grimly unfinished.

Even Hamish looked shocked at this unfairness, and for an instant Kelpie missed the full irony of the situation. Then it dawned on her. Alex was to die for the thing she herself had done—and he well aware of it and helpless, since he had no notion where she was! It was almost too good to be possible!

She bit her lip and pressed closer to the chink, and a squeak of what must be delight—although it felt almost like a sob—escaped her.

Alex turned—oh, so casually!—and his eyes, dark in the shadow of the shelter, looked straight into hers.

Kelpie stopped breathing. Too appalled even to move, she stood frozen, waiting for the simple, deadly words that must come next. In her mind she heard them clearly. “Very well so, and you will find the guilty party is the witch lass hiding this very moment outside the wall....” She should be away, running like a hare! But she could not, for her shock had glued her feet to the ground, and already Alex had begun to speak.

“And how,” he asked deliberately, “could I be doing that?”

Kelpie missed the next part of the conversation, for she was altogether stunned. He had seen and recognized her; never a doubt of it. In that instant she had handed him the victory, his own life and hers as well, and he had dropped them indifferently at his feet! Why? Was he fey, then, to be deliberately throwing away his life? Not even the scruples of Ian could account for it, for Alex owed her nothing and less than nothing, especially since he believed she had betrayed him to the Campbells.

In her bewilderment she didn’t even feel relief at her own narrow escape. And when she was again able to concentrate on the scene inside, she found that Alex had taken the edge off her victory simply by giving it to her. Where had the triumph and savor gone? Frowning, she reminded herself that Alex was being justly punished for what he did to Ian, and she was not sorry! No, nor would she ever dream of wanting to save him whatever, for he deserved to die, and had she not been planning revenge? She would not want to help him even if she could—and couldn’t if she wanted to, for was it not her rule of life to look out for herself and no one else? And if Mac Cailein Mor should so much as glimpse the witch lass caught trying to hex him, and herself wearing his own wife’s gown and cloak this moment.... She laughed at herself for even thinking that such a daft idea could ever enter her head. It was gloating she was. She was!

Intent on her gloating, she risked another peep through the chink and saw that Argyll was biting his lip with anger. Alex had no doubt just said something derisive, for he was smiling recklessly. But for all his composure, Kelpie knew that he was afraid in the face of death. Had not she herself, more than once, acted calm when she did not feel that way? Och, she knew how his heart must be pounding, as her own was just from imagining it.

Or perhaps it was pounding with happiness and excitement and triumph. Her fists were clenched painfully and her lips drawn back from her teeth. This was the moment, and she would watch while—while—

“Take him out yonder and shoot him,” said Argyll.

Then Kelpie heard a reckless laugh coming from her own lips, and she found herself around the wall and in the firelight and confronting Argyll with her head held high.

“No, now,” she said, “for ’twas I sent the messenger.”

One part of her stood aghast and terrified at the insane thing she had done, but the other part—the thing inside, which had been pushing her for so long—was glad and triumphant.