He exulted so much in the conquest which he
anticipated, that, to nerve his son to still bolder exertions, he
conferred upon him, as champion of his clan and province, the
celebrated weapon which he had hitherto retained in his own
custody.
This was not all. When the day of combat arrived, the Laird's
Jock, in spite of his daughter's affectionate remonstrances,
determined, though he had not left his bed for two years, to be a
personal witness of the duel. His will was still a law to his
people, who bore him on their shoulders, wrapped in plaids and
blankets, to the spot where the combat was to take place, and
seated him on a fragment of rock, which is still called the
Laird's Jock's stone. There he remained with eyes fixed on the
lists or barrier, within which the champions were about to meet.
His daughter, having done all she could for his accommodation,
stood motionless beside him, divided between anxiety for his
health, and for the event of the combat to her beloved brother.
Ere yet the fight began, the old men gazed on their chief, now
seen for the first time after several years, and sadly compared
his altered features and wasted frame with the paragon of
strength and manly beauty which they once remembered.
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