"My name is called Balfour," said I, "David Balfour of Shaws. As for him
that sent me, I will let his token speak." And I showed the silver
button.

"Put it in your pocket, sir!" cries he, "Ye need name no names. The
deevil's buckie, I ken the button of him! And de'il hae't! Where is he
now?"

I told him I knew not where Alan was, but he had some sure place (or
thought he had) about the north side, where he was to lie until a ship
was found for him; and how and where he had appointed to be spoken with.

"It's been always my opinion that I would hang in a tow for this family
of mine," he cried, "and, dod! I believe the day's come now! Get a ship
for him, quot' he! And who's to pay for it? The man's daft!"

"That is my part of the affair, Mr. Stewart," said I. "Here is a bag of
good money, and if more be wanted, more is to be had where it came
from."

"I needn't ask your politics," said he.

"Ye need not," said I, smiling, "for I'm as big a Whig as grows."

"Stop a bit, stop a bit," says Mr. Stewart. "What's all this? A Whig?
Then why are you here with Alan's button? and what kind of a black-foot
traffic is this that I find ye out in, Mr. Whig? Here is a forfeited
rebel and an accused murderer, with two hundred pounds on his life, and
ye ask me to meddle in his business, and then tell me ye're a Whig! I