Up in Ardmuirland by Michael Barrett
page 78 of 165 (47%)
page 78 of 165 (47%)
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To Bonar's ardent mind the season of the year seemed likely to assist rather than hinder him. Days were short; nights were dark (if the moon should happen to be unpropitious), but they were long. No work was possible at such a time in a mountain distillery, and stores could not be shifted so readily as in summer time. So he determined to bide his opportunity and make a secret visit to Davie Forbes' dwelling, just to reconnoiter. He would thus be enabled to form his plan of campaign for a more bold attack. Unfortunately, the gauger did not thoroughly know the people he had to deal with or he would have made allowance for their clannish devotion to each other's interests. Every one recognized him as a public enemy, and however politely he might be treated public sympathy was on the side of his opponents. He might flatter himself that he was keeping his intentions and movements absolutely secret, yet it was impossible not to take some one or other into his confidence; thus it came about that tidings of his intended visit flew to Davie at least a week before his attempt. In consequence of this fact, all incriminating evidence was carefully concealed by the old man and his sons, and it would have taken a sharper man than Bonar--intelligent as he was--to discover any traces of illicit distilling in the neighborhood of their house. There was one suspicious feature only; a large eighteen-gallon barrel, full of something--whatever the liquid might be--was barely covered by peat-turfs heaped over it under the shelter of the end wall of the byre. But it had not been overlooked; arrangements had been made in its regard, should circumstances demand its more thorough concealment, otherwise it must not be disturbed. For--if the truth must be |
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