d I began instead to rain kicks and buffets on the door, and to shout
out aloud for Mr. Balfour. I was in full career, when I heard the cough
right overhead, and, jumping back and looking up, beheld a man's head in
a tall nightcap, and the bell mouth of a blunderbuss, at one of the
first-story windows.

"It's loaded," said a voice.

"I have come here with a letter," I said, "to Mr. Ebenezer Balfour of
Shaws. Is he here?"

"From whom is it?" asked the man with the blunderbuss.

"That is neither here nor there," said I, for I was growing very wroth.

"Well," was the reply, "ye can put it down upon the doorstep, and be off
with ye."

"I will do no such thing," I cried. "I will deliver it into Mr.
Balfour's hands, as it was meant I should. It is a letter of
introduction."

"A what?" cried the voice sharply.

I repeated what I had said.

"Who are ye yourself?" was the next question, after a considerable
pause.

"I am not ashamed of my name," said I. "They call me David Balfour."

At that I made sure the man started, for I heard the blunderbuss rattle
on the window-sill; and it was after quite a long pause, and with a
curious change of voice, that the next question followed:

"Is your father dead?"

I was so much surprised at this, that I could find no voice to answer,
but stood staring.

"Ay," the man resumed, "he'll be dead, no doubt; and that'll be what
brings ye chapping to my door." Another pause, and then defiantly,
"Well, man," he said, "I'll let ye in"; and he disappeared from the
window.

CHAPTER III

I MAKE ACQUAINTANCE OF MY UNCLE

Presently there came a great rattling of chains and bolts, and the door
was cautiously opened and shut to again behind me as soon as I had
passed.

"Go into the kitchen and touch naething," said the voice; and while the
person of the house set himself to replacing the defences of the door, I
groped my way forward and entered the kitchen.

The fire had burned up fairly bright, and showed me the barest room I
think I ever put my eyes on. Half-a-dozen dishes stood upon the shelves;
the table was laid for supper with a bowl of porridge, a horn spoon, and
a cup of small beer. Besides what I have named, there was not another
thing in that great, stone-vaulted, empty chamber but lockfast chests
arranged along the wall and a corner-cupboard with a padlock.

As soon as the last chain was up, the man rejoined me. He was a mean,
stooping, narrow-shouldered, clay-