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Updated: May 9, 2025
He said Roy's mother was rather a swell native woman a pucca native; and Roy went for him like a wild thing, because he called her an ayah " Again Rose smiled in spite of herself. "He would!" "Would he, indeed! That's all you think of though you know I've got a weak heart. And I nearly fainted if that's any interest to you! The Bradley boy doesn't know about us.
Macleay, p. 181. See Trials, &c. p. 76. Tour to the Hebrides. Macleay. This account of what is called in history the "Loch Lomond Expedition," is taken from the Wodrow MSS. in the Advocate's Library in Edinburgh. Extracts from these MSS. have been printed by James Dennistoun, Esq., to whose work I am indebted for this narrative of Rob Roy's martial career. The Loch Lomond Expedition, p. 9.
The bramin lost no time in his journey, and, upon his arrival at the farmer's house, delivered to him and his wife the roy's orders, that they should repair to Beejanuggur with their daughter.
Then one of Roy's snow-shoes gave way, which caused another halt. After this a heavy snow-storm set in, rendering the walking very difficult, as they sank, snow-shoes and all, nearly to the knees at each step. A storm of wind which arose about the same time, effectually stopped their farther advance, and obliged them to take to the shelter of a dense part of the woods and encamp.
The troops, finding the birds were flown, avenged themselves by destroying the nest. They burned Rob Roy's house, though not with impunity; for the MacGregors, concealed among the thickets and cliffs, fired on them, and killed a grenadier. Rob Roy avenged himself for the loss which he sustained on this occasion by an act of singular audacity.
That second time, things had been easier; and there had been the added delight of Roy's eager interest; his increasing devotion to the grandfather, whose pride and joy in him rivalled her own. "In this little man we have the hope of England and India!" he would say, only half in joke.
He reached out a heavy hand, and Roy shrunk from it. As he did so there came a sound which sent the blood to Roy's heart with a spasm of instant hope, of possible escape. It was Tumbu's low growl as he realised that some one wanted to touch his old master and that his old master did not want to be touched. "At him, Tumbu! At him, good dog!"
Georges rose. "I will write the item; it must be handled prudently." The old man hesitated, then said: "Do so: it serves those right who are caught in such scrapes." Three months had elapsed. Georges du Roy's divorce had been obtained. His wife had resumed the name of Forestier.
Twice more this happened; then just as he began to feel that he could stand the strain no longer, he heard Roy's jolly laugh. 'We've done it. One step more, and you're on the ledge. A moment later, and they stood together on a ledge nearly a yard wide. It seemed like a turnpike road compared to the one above. Roy drew a long breath. 'That was a bad bit, he said.
"You will have the goodness to answer me, Mrs. Roy." "It were just a dream sir," she said, the words issuing in unequal jerks from her trembling lips, "I have been pretty nigh crazed lately. What with them Mormons, and the uncertainty of fixing what to do whether to believe 'em or not and Roy's crabbed temper, which grows upon him, and other fears and troubles, I've been a-nigh crazed.
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