Dhu (which was the name of our
host) had a pair of pipes in his house, and was much of a lover of
music, the time of my recovery was quite a festival, and we commonly
turned night into day.

The soldiers let us be; although once a party of two companies and some
dragoons went by in the bottom of the valley, where I could see them
through the window as I lay in bed. What was much more astonishing, no
magistrate came near me, and there was no question put of whence I came
or whither I was going; and in that time of excitement I was as free of
all inquiry as though I had lain in a desert. Yet my presence was known
before I left to all the people in Balquhidder and the adjacent parts;
many coming about the house on visits, and these (after the custom of
the country) spreading the news among their neighbours. The bills, too,
had now been printed. There was one pinned near the foot of my bed,
where I could read my own not very flattering portrait, and, in larger
characters, the amount of the blood-money that had been set upon my
life. Duncan Dhu and the rest that knew that I had come there in Alan's
company could have entertained no doubt of who I was; and many others
must have had their guess. For though I had changed my clothes, I could
not change my age or person; and Lowland boys of eighteen were not so
rife in these parts of the world, and above all about that time, that
they could fail to put one thing with another, and connect me with the
bill. So it was, at least. Other folk keep a secret among two or three
near friends, and somehow it leaks out; but among these clansmen, it is
told to a whole countryside, and they will keep it for a century.

There was but one thing happened worth narrating; and that is the visit
I had of Robin Oig, one of the sons of the notorious Rob Roy. He was
sought upon all sides on the charge of carrying a young woman from
Balfron and marrying her (as was alleged) by force; yet he stepped about
Balquhidder like a gentleman in his own walled policy. It was he who had
shot James Maclaren at the plough-stilts, a quarrel never satisfied; yet
he walked into the house of his blood enemies as a rider[30] might into
a public inn.

Duncan had time to pass me word of who it was; and we looked at one
another in concern. You should understand, it was then close upon the
time of Alan's coming; the two were little likely to agree; and yet if
we sent word or sought to make a signal, it was sure to arouse