ty interior.

I put up that night in a shepherd's cottage miles from anywhere. The
man was called Macmorran, and he had come from Galloway when sheep were
booming. He was a very good imitation of a savage, a little fellow with
red hair and red eyes, who might have been a Pict. He lived with a
daughter who had once been in service in Glasgow, a fat young woman
with a face entirely covered with freckles and a pout of habitual
discontent. No wonder, for that cottage was a pretty mean place. It was
so thick with peat-reek that throat and eyes were always smarting. It
was badly built, and must have leaked like a sieve in a storm. The
father was a surly fellow, whose conversation was one long growl at the
world, the high prices, the difficulty of moving his sheep, the
meanness of his master, and the godforsaken character of Skye. 'Here's
me no seen baker's bread for a month, and no company but a wheen
ignorant Hielanders that yatter Gawlic. I wish I was back in the
Glenkens. And I'd gang the morn if I could get paid what I'm awed.'

However, he gave me supper--a braxy ham and oatcake, and I bought the
remnants off him for use next day. I did not trust his blankets, so I
slept the night by the fire in the ruins of an arm-chair, and woke at
dawn with a foul taste in my mouth. A dip in the burn refreshed me, and
after a bowl of porridge I took the road again. For I was anxious to
get to some hill-top that looked over to Ranna.

Before midday I was close under the eastern side of the Coolin, on a
road which was more a rockery than a path. Presently I saw a big house
ahead of me that looked like an inn, so I gave it a miss and struck the
highway that led to it a little farther north. Then I bore off to the
east, and was just beginning to climb a hill which I judged stood
between me and the sea, when I heard wheels on the road and looked back.

It was a farmer's gig carrying one man. I was about half a mile off,
and something in the cut of his jib seemed familiar. I got my glasses
on him and made out a short, stout figure clad in a mackintosh, with a
woollen comforter round its throat. As I watched, it made a movement as
if to rub its nose on its sleeve. That was the pet trick of one man I
knew. Inconspicuously I slipped through the long heather so as to reach
the road ahead of the gig. When I rose like a wraith from the wayside
the horse started, but not the driver.

'So ye're there,' said Amos's voice. 'I've news for ye. The