The Master of Stair
Macdonald turned the horse's head away from the eagle's orgy.
"It is Campbell's tartan and a Campbell's skull," he said. "What else?"
She was still straining her eyes after the ghastly bundle they were leaving behind them.
"It is a woman!" she cried.
"Yes," he answered, "we got her yesterday from Jock Campbell's house--we burnt a house of his two days ago--you could see the flames from here." His eyes sparkled with pride. "They were three to one," he added, "but the Campbells always fight like Lowlanders."
She put her hand to a face grown ghastly white.
"You keep your eagles well fed," she said. "I would not be a Campbell in your hands, Macdonald of Glencoe!"
He looked up, puzzled at her tone; he had not properly seen her face nor could he see it now for the collar and the hat; it occurred to him that she did not understand the bitterness of this hate.
"There is the sword and the flame between us two," he said. "A Campbell has not broken bread with