a long homespun
waistcoat, blue breeches; his legs bare, low-country shoes, wanting the
toes; speaks like a Lowlander, and has no beard."

Alan was well enough pleased to see his finery so fully remembered and
set down; only when he came to the word "tarnished," he looked upon his
lace like one a little mortified. As for myself, I thought I cut a
miserable figure in the bill; and yet was well enough pleased too, for
since I had changed these rags, the description had ceased to be a
danger and become a source of safety.

"Alan," said I, "you should change your clothes."

"Na, troth!" said Alan, "I have nae others. A fine sight I would be, if
I went back to France in a bonnet!"

This put a second reflection in my mind: that if I were to separate from
Alan and his tell-tale clothes I should be safe against arrest, and
might go openly about my business. Nor was this all; for suppose I was
arrested when I was alone, there was little against me: but suppose I
was taken in company with the reputed murderer, my case would begin to
be grave. For generosity's sake I dared not speak my mind upon this
head; but I thought of it none the less.

I thought of it all the more, too, when the bouman brought out a green
purse with four guineas in gold, and the best part of another in small
change. True, it was more than I had. But then Alan, with less than five
guineas, had to get as far as France; I, with my less than two, not
beyond Queensferry; so that, taking things in their proportion, Alan's
society was not only a peril to my life, but a burden on my purse.

But there was no thought of the sort in the honest head of my companion.
He believed he was serving, helping, and protecting me. And what could I
do but hold my peace and chafe and take my chance of it?

"It's little enough," said Alan, putting the purse in his pocket, "but
it'll do my business. And now, John Breck, if ye will hand me over my
button, this gentleman and me will be for taking the road."

But the bouman, after feeling about in a hairy purse that hung in front
of him in the Highland manner (though he wore otherwise the Lowland
habit, with sea-trousers), began to roll his eyes strangely, and at last
said, "Her nainsel' will loss it," meaning he thought he had lost it.

"What!" cried Alan, "you will lose my button, that was my father's
before me? Now I will tell you what is in my mind, John Breck: it is in
my mind this is the worst day's work that ever ye did