“I’m going to fight the brutes. As a matter of fact we hope to be reinforced by some … by some keen young fellows from Glasgow.” He could not bring himself to confess to Kilwhillie he had made an alliance with Scottish Nationalists.

“From Glasgow?” Kilwhillie echoed in amazement.

“Highlandmen, of course. By the way, have you met Miss Royde’s fiancé, Mr Macmillan?”

Kilwhillie shook hands with Alan, looking dazed. Glenbogle had taken on the quality of a dream-place since he left it hardly a week ago.

“I thought of using boiling water from the windows of the first floor,” Ben Nevis mentioned casually.

“Boiling water? What for?”

“For the hikers, Hugh, of course. What else would I use boiling water for? The girls can pour it over the brutes when they try to force their way in. I’d like to use boiling oil, but I doubt if we’ve got enough oil to boil. Have we got enough oil to boil, Trixie?”

“Certainly not, Donald,” the Lady of Ben Nevis replied firmly.

However, the attack on the Castle did not develop as quickly as Ben Nevis expected, though the enemy all through dinner were very noisy, one particularly objectionable feature being the repeated singing of the Hikers’ Song in the courtyard.

“I can’t stand this much longer,” Ben Nevis declared at last. “I shall have to do something.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Toker, “but the blacksmith, the cowman, the carpenter and two or three of the gillies attempted a counter-attack a few minutes ago, and it was not quite as successful as could be wished.”

“What happened?”

“Mrs Parsall and two of the maids are tying up their wounds, which consist of minor injuries inflicted by those long sticks with which the enemy is armed. It would seem that a very determined effort was made to capture Kenneth Macdonald and it was while our side were pulling him by the arms and the enemy were pulling him by the legs that the injuries were inflicted by these sticks.”

“The cowardly brutes,” Ben Nevis exclaimed.

“In point of fact, sir, it was the young women hikers who used the sticks so recklessly. The men fought more cleanly, if I may use the expression.”

The offensive noises continued for two or three hours after dinner and Chester Royde, basing his forecast on his researches into Indian warfare, held strongly to the opinion that an attempt would be made to rush the Castle just before dawn. The Chieftain gave orders that the garrison was to be on the alert all night, the various guards relieving one another at intervals of two hours. He himself did not rest, but stalked about the Castle, encouraging everybody to stand firm for the honour and safety of Glenbogle, like a composite of Macbeth, King Henry V and the ghost of Hamlet’s father, a truly impressive Shakespearean shape.