The townsmen crowded to doors
and windows to watch us pass.
The Prince doffed to them every other yard, but he and all of us were
mere curiosities to most of them.
The progress was stayed at the "White Horse" in Sadler-gate, and the
Prince, with us, his immediate attendants, turned into the inn-yard, with
its long uneven lines of stables and coach-houses, all packed with
Camerons. At the news of the Prince's coming they trooped out, yelling
lustily. Some sort of order was formed, and the Prince walked up and down
among the swaying, uncouth masses, with a cheery smile on his face, and
with now and again a phrase of their own Gaelic on his lips.
"The men are keen enough," he said to the Colonel apart. "Let us go
within and see what mood young Lochiel is in now."
Lochiel, 'young' only by way of distinction from a Lochiel still older,
wanted no digging out, for, the news having been carried to him, he ran
out bareheaded and breathless. He was, in fact, a middle-aged gentleman,
broody and melancholy at times, as these men of the mountains are apt to
be when they've got brains. At the Council he had been silently set on
going back.
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