From the top of the corrie the hikers’ leader surveyed with his glasses the advance of the Glenbogle forces a mile away. He observed Iain MacDonald and the two gillies detach themselves and move across to their right with the evident intention of preparing the enveloping movement he planned to nip in the bud. At the same time he saw Ben Nevis, Chester Royde, and Duncan move left toward the entrance of the Black Corrie. With Napoleonic rapidity he decided upon his tactics. He despatched two more columns to support Hiker Hickey, and brought the rest of his force down again into the corrie.

“Now, take cover,” he commanded, “and when I blow my whistle, attack and disarm the enemy.”

“But suppose they fire at us?” Mr Prew asked. “They have guns, and once Fascism starts it’s not easy to predict where it will stop.”

“That’s the whole point of collective security, and I think you’ll admit that my disposition of the force under my command has achieved the maximum collective security. Frankly, I don’t believe they will fire their guns. Except perhaps in the air. But we shall not be frightened.”

“Oh no,” Mr Prew declared, with a certain lack of conviction in his negative.

As a matter of fact when Ben Nevis, Chester Royde and Duncan on hands and knees crawled up the rough brae that led to the entrance of the great hollow known as the Black Corrie and the hikers yelling the motto of the N.U.H. as a war-cry—Hike On, Hike Ever—swept down upon them from their ambush on either side, Ben Nevis did discharge both barrels into the air, and to judge by the screams of the mobile reserve with deadly effect. However, that was all he was able to do before he and his companions were overwhelmed by weight of numbers and tied up in tents.

On the heights above the corrie the day went equally badly for Glenbogle, for though Iain MacDonald tossed two or three of the hikers farther than he had tossed the caber at the games a week ago, he, Lachy and Roddy were borne down by the superior forces of the enemy. The victory of the hikers was rapid and complete.

And while the prisoners tied up in tents lay waiting for Buckham’s decision about their disposal, along the path that led from the other side into the rocky fastnesses of the Three Sisters of Glenbogle there was heard the grand refrain of the Hikers’ Song upon the lips of the first body of reinforcements tramping in from Kenspeckle, where they had been deposited by the omnibus from Fort William that met the London train.