I slept uneasily that night, fearing I should be robbed; but I might have spared myself the pain; for my host was no robber, only miserably poor and a great cheat.  He was not alone in his poverty; for the next morning, we must go five miles about to the house of what he called a rich man to have one of my guineas changed.  This was perhaps a rich man for Mull; he would have scarce been thought so in the south; for it took all he had—­the whole house was turned upside down, and a neighbour brought under contribution, before he could scrape together twenty shillings in silver.  The odd shilling he kept for himself, protesting he could ill afford to have so great a sum of money lying “locked up.”  For all that he was very courteous and well spoken, made us both sit down with his family to dinner, and brewed punch in a fine china bowl, over which my rascal guide grew so merry that he refused to start.

I was for getting angry, and appealed to the rich man (Hector Maclean was his name), who had been a witness to our bargain and to my payment of the five shillings.  But Maclean had taken his share of the punch, and vowed that no gentleman should leave his table after the bowl was brewed; so there was nothing for it but to sit and hear Jacobite toasts and Gaelic songs, till all were tipsy and staggered off to the bed or the barn for their night’s rest.

Next day (the fourth of my travels) we were up before five upon the clock; but my rascal guide got to the bottle at once, and it was three hours before I had him clear of the house, and then (as you shall hear) only for a worse disappointment.

As long as we went down a heathery valley that lay before Mr. Maclean’s house, all went well; only my guide looked constantly over his shoulder, and when I asked him the cause, only grinned at me.  No sooner, however, had we crossed the back of a hill, and got out of sight of the house windows, than he told me Torosay lay right in front, and that a hill-top (which he pointed out) was my best landmark.

“I care very little for that,” said I, “since you are going with me.”

The impudent cheat answered me in the Gaelic that he had no English.

“My fine fellow,” I said, “I know very well your English comes and goes.  Tell me what will bring it back?  Is it more money you wish?”

“Five shillings mair,” said he, “and hersel’ will bring ye there.”

I reflected awhile and then offered him two, which he accepted greedily, and insisted on having in his hands at once “for luck,” as he said, but I think it was rather for my misfortune.

The two shillings carried him not quite as many miles; at the end of which distance, he sat down upon the wayside and took off his brogues from his feet, like a man about to rest.

I was now red-hot.  “Ha!” said I, “have you no more English?”

He said impudently, “No.”

At that I boiled over, and lifted my hand to strike him; and he, drawing a knife from his rags, squatted back and grinned at me like a wildcat.  At that, forgetting everything but my anger, I ran in upon him, put aside his knife with my left, and struck him in the mouth with the right.  I was a strong lad and very angry, and he but a little man; and he went down before me heavily.  By good luck, his knife flew out of his hand as he fell.