“Not in an airioplane, Ben Nevis. No, no. It might break down and we would be finding ourselves in the wrong place.”

“Well, take care of yourself, Alasdair. I may be over in Strathdun soon, and I’ll look in and have a crack. How’s the old lady?”

“Och, the cailleach’s very well, but she would never admit it. She’s like all the women that way.”

Ben Nevis waved a patriarchal arm and passed on to chat with another crony. If anything was lacking to make his day a success it was supplied when after an hour of such gossip he noticed that Hector was sitting by Myrtle on the mound and apparently keeping her very well entertained. A glow of pride suffused his being. Murdoch and Iain might be able to toss the caber, throw the hammer, and put the stone, but it was his eldest son and successor who knew what was really vital to preserve the glories of Mac ’ic Eachainn’s line. A great lad, Hector MacDonald, Younger, of Ben Nevis. The Chieftain was roused from such fond patriarchal reflections by the voice of Chester Royde at his elbow.

“Ben Nevis, have you noticed the head guy among that bunch of hikers?”

“I haven’t been looking at them. I welcome the brutes to Glenbogle on the day of the Gathering, but I can’t bring myself to look at them. If I look at a hiker for more than a minute I get a curious kind of buzzing in the top of my head.”

“Chance the buzzing for once and take a look at him,” Royde urged.

“Do you mean the fellow with the chin?”

“That’s the guy I mean.”

“His face is familiar to me somehow. Was he among that crowd we dealt with on the Twelfth?”

Chester Royde shook his head.

“I can’t recognize any of them from that bunch of hoodlums. This is a new gang. They’ve been staring at me quite a lot. Particularly that stiff with the chin. Now what are they staring at me for?”

“I expect it’s your kilt.”

“Hell, there are plenty other folk around in kilts. I don’t see what they want to pick on me for as a close-up.”

“A close-up?”

“Yes, that guy with the chin, which invites punching, keeps nodding in my direction, and then one of these hikers strolls along and stares me up and down as if he wanted to be sure of knowing me again. If I hit one of them, would that spoil your notion of a happy day?”