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