“This’ll no do,” said Alan.

“Ye must find a safe bit somewhere near by,” said James, “and get word sent to me.  Ye see, ye’ll have to get this business prettily off, Alan.  This is no time to be stayed for a guinea or two.  They’re sure to get wind of ye, sure to seek ye, and by my way of it, sure to lay on ye the wyte of this day’s accident.  If it falls on you, it falls on me that am your near kinsman and harboured ye while ye were in the country.  And if it comes on me——­” he paused, and bit his fingers, with a white face.  “It would be a painful thing for our friends if I was to hang,” said he.

“It would be an ill day for Appin,” says Alan.

“It’s a day that sticks in my throat,” said James.  “O man, man, man—­man Alan! you and me have spoken like two fools!” he cried, striking his hand upon the wall so that the house rang again.

“Well, and that’s true, too,” said Alan; “and my friend from the Lowlands here” (nodding at me) “gave me a good word upon that head, if I would only have listened to him.”

“But see here,” said James, returning to his former manner, “if they lay me by the heels, Alan, it’s then that you’ll be needing the money.  For with all that I have said and that you have said, it will look very black against the two of us; do ye mark that?  Well, follow me out, and ye’ll, I’ll see that I’ll have to get a paper out against ye mysel’; have to offer a reward for ye; ay, will I!  It’s a sore thing to do between such near friends; but if I get the dirdum* of this dreadful accident, I’ll have to fend for myself, man.  Do ye see that?”

     * Blame.

He spoke with a pleading earnestness, taking Alan by the breast of the coat.

“Ay” said Alan, “I see that.”

“And ye’ll have to be clear of the country, Alan—­ay, and clear of Scotland—­you and your friend from the Lowlands, too.  For I’ll have to paper your friend from the Lowlands.  Ye see that, Alan—­say that ye see that!”

I thought Alan flushed a bit.  “This is unco hard on me that brought him here, James,” said he, throwing his head back.  “It’s like making me a traitor!”

“Now, Alan, man!” cried James.  “Look things in the face!  He’ll be papered anyway; Mungo Campbell’ll be sure to paper him; what matters if I paper him too?  And then, Alan, I am a man that has a family.”  And then, after a little pause on both sides, “And, Alan, it’ll be a jury of Campbells,” said he.

“There’s one thing,” said Alan, musingly, “that naebody kens his name.”

“Nor yet they shallnae, Alan!  There’s my hand on that,” cried James, for all the world as if he had really known my name and was foregoing some advantage.  “But just the habit he was in, and what he looked like, and his age, and the like?  I couldnae well do less.”

“I wonder at your father’s son,” cried Alan, sternly.  “Would ye sell the lad with a gift?  Would ye change his clothes and then betray him?”