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Updated: June 28, 2025
When Jonas Bellew set off in search of the rumoured wreck, as related in a previous chapter, he passed the Cliff Fort without calling there, partly because he did not wish to waste time, and partly because he had no desire to hold converse at that time with Mr Smart, who, he rightly suspected, must have shared in Redding's suspicions as to the intentions of the McLeods.
Von sauvage come an' tell me he have see dem. Got put up von hut, an' have begin de saw-mill." "Well, well, Francois," returned Redding, with a somewhat doubtful smile, as he resumed his knife and fork, "bring some more hot water, and keep your mind easy. The McLeods can't do us much harm. Their saw-mill will work for many a day before it makes much impression on the forests hereabouts.
Men out there are usually vigorous in taking advantage of the change; the McLeods were making the most of their time when the fur-trader approached. "It should be getting near supper-time," said the elder McLeod, looking at the sun.
"Then I'll be off by daybreak the day after to-morrow," said Redding, with much decision. "Why such haste?" asked the surveyor, "the McLeods are not likely to run away from you.
"Now, Mister Smart," said Bellew, taking the fur-trader aside, "from all that I have heard and seen, it is clear to me that this wreck is the vessel, in which the McLeods of Jenkins Creek had shipped their property from England, and that this youth is Roderick, the youngest son of the family.
I'd take him down," she replied with a knowing shake of her head. "Poor Dick! He's in for a hard time," replied Barney. "But nothing can change Dick. And I am awful glad he's coming to-day, in time for the raising, too." "The raising? Oh, yes. The McLeods'. Yes, I remember. And," regretfully, "a big supper and a big spree afterwards in the new barn." "Are not you going?" inquired Barney.
We turn now to "the enemy" the McLeods. The father and his two sons sat in a rude shanty, on a bench and an empty keg, drinking tea out of tin cans. They were all stalwart, dark-haired, grave-visaged mountaineers of Scotland. Unitedly they would have measured at least eighteen feet of humanity.
"If you will accompany me to the creek," replied Redding, pointing to the islet on which the McLeods had already marked off a portion of rock and planted a couple of stakes, "I will enlighten you on that point." "Willingly," answered McLeod, preparing to follow with his two sons.
He also gave orders that no one should quit the post, or furnish any assistance to the McLeods. "But, sir," said Bob Smart, in surprise, "they will be sure to starve." "No fear of them," replied Redding, "Kenneth is young and active, and they have plenty of ammunition." "If report be true," returned Bob, "neither Kenneth nor any of his kin can hit a sheep at twenty yards off.
Descending a very long and crooked ravine, we reached the river flat at last, upon which is situated Fort Dunvegan, called after the stronghold of the McLeods of Skye, but alas! with no McCrimmon to welcome us with his echoing pipes!
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