y penetration at all, which I misdoubt), _Alan will be
lying in a wood which is both of pines and birches_. Then he will think
to himsel', _That is not so very rife hereabout_; and then he will come
and give us a look up in Corrynakiegh. And if he does not, David, the
devil may fly away with him, for what I care; for he will no' be worth
the salt to his porridge."

"Eh, man," said I, drolling with him a little, "you're very ingenious!
But would it not be simpler for you to write him a few words in black
and white?"

"And that is an excellent observe, Mr. Balfour of Shaws," says Alan,
drolling with me; "and it would certainly be much simpler for me to
write to him, but it would be a sore job for John Breck to read it. He
would have to go to the school for two-three years; and it's possible we
might be wearied waiting on him."

So that night Alan carried down his fiery cross and set it in the
bouman's window. He was troubled when he came back; for the dogs had
barked and the folk run out from their houses; and he thought he had
heard a clatter of arms and seen a red-coat come to one of the doors. On
all accounts we lay the next day in the borders of the wood and kept a
close look-out, so that if it was John Breck that came we might be ready
to guide him, and if it was the red-coats we should have time to get
away.

About noon a man was to be spied, straggling up the open side of the
mountain in the sun, and looking round him as he came, from under his
hand. No sooner had Alan seen him than he whistled; the man turned and
came a little towards us: then Alan would give another "peep!" and the
man would come still nearer; and so, by the sound of whistling, he was
guided to the spot where we lay.

He was a ragged, wild, bearded man, about forty, grossly disfigured with
the small-pox, and looked both dull and savage. Although his English was
very bad and broken, yet Alan (according to his very handsome use,
whenever I was by) would suffer him to speak no Gaelic. Perhaps the
strange language made him appear more backward than he really was; but I
thought he had little good-will to serve us, and what he had was the
child of terror.

Alan would have had him carry a message to James; but the bouman would
hear of no message. "She was forget it," he said in his screaming voice;
and would either have a letter or wash his hands of us.

I thought Alan would be gravelled at that, for we lacked the means of
writing in that deser