“At least a hundred and fifty,” one of his men said. “All big men in tartan with guns and swords.”
“I saw more than that,” another of the militia stated, and I thought I’d better interrupt before they imagined another Jacobite Rising and called for the government to send up ten thousand regulars to put down the rebellion in the glen.
“I did not see a hundred men with guns,” I said. “Now, if you could all stand still, I will have those silly blindfolds off you.”
“Halt!” Ensign Hepburn commanded, and the slow stumble down the hill stopped.
One man promptly fell and lay on the ground. I walked along the column, gently removing the blindfolds that I had tied in place only a short time before.
“There now,” I said. “Is that not better? You can enjoy this lovely morning.”
“We’ll kill them,”
