Mention has been made of the cave on Ben Booey in which Prince Charles Edward, according to local tradition, spent several nights hidden from the redcoats. Uaimh na Phrionnsa or the Prince’s Cave was in every way a much more striking piece of natural architecture than the Calf’s Cave on Ben Cruet. The view was superb from the rocky terrace in front that ended in an almost sheer precipice of four hundred feet and if Percy Buckham had chosen the view with the express purpose of enraging his enemy he could not have been more devilishly successful, comprising as it did Glenbogle Castle lying among its pines six miles away across the glen and beyond Ben Cruet, in the remoter background, mighty Ben Nevis itself, the Lord of which was impotent in the hands of hikers. It was to the Prince’s Cave that Percy Buckham consigned his captives that September day when the sons of Hector suffered the most humiliating defeat in all their long and bellicose history.

At first the prisoners had refused to move from the corrie, but a threat to carry them to the cave tied up in tents persuaded them to give way on this point. On their arrival their arms and legs were bound with ropes, and they were sitting thus too much dejected to talk when Percy Buckham came along with a paper, and addressed Ben Nevis:

“I will read you out a letter, which I have composed. If you will sign this letter I will give orders for your release, and hostilities can terminate. If you refuse to sign I shall have no option but to keep you prisoners here while I proceed with my original plan to seize and occupy Glenbogle Castle.”

As a cat chatters at a sparrow beyond the range of his spring, so did Ben Nevis chatter at Percy Buckham when he heard this insolent threat. And even as the sparrow safely out of reach pays no attention to the chattering of the cat, so did Percy Buckham ignore the chattering of Ben Nevis.

“Here is the letter I propose you shall sign,” he began. “Dear Mr Buckham …” he broke off. “I am Percy Buckham, the Acting President of the National Union of Hikers.”

“One of these days you’ll wish you weren’t Percy Buckham,” Chester Royde warned him.

“Don’t bandy words with this blackguard. Keep cool, Royde, like me,” urged Ben Nevis, whose face was bubbling like molten lava in the crater of a volcano.