been a Pict. He lived with a daughter who had once been in service
in Glasgow, a fat young woman with a face entirely covered with
freckles and a pout of habitual discontent. No wonder, for that
cottage was a pretty mean place. It was so thick with peat-reek that
throat and eyes were always smarting. It was badly built, and must
have leaked like a sieve in a storm. The father was a surly fellow,
whose conversation was one long growl at the world, the high
prices, the difficulty of moving his sheep, the meanness of his
master, and the godforsaken character of Skye. 'Here's me no seen
baker's bread for a month, and no company but a wheen ignorant
Hielanders that yatter Gawlic. I wish I was back in the Glenkens.
And I'd gang the morn if I could get paid what I'm awed.'

However, he gave me supper - a braxy ham and oatcake, and I
bought the remnants off him for use next day. I did not trust his
blankets, so I slept the night by the fire in the ruins of an arm-
chair, and woke at dawn with a foul taste in my mouth. A dip in the burn
refreshed me, and after a bowl of porridge I took the road again.
For I was anxious to get to some hill-top that looked over to Ranna.

Before midday I was close under the eastern side of the Coolin,
on a road which was more a rockery than a path. Presently I saw a
big house ahead of me that looked like an inn, so I gave it a miss
and struck the highway that led to it a little farther north. Then I
bore off to the east, and was just beginning to climb a hill which I
judged stood between me and the sea, when I heard wheels on the
road and looked back.

It was a farmer's gig carrying one man. I was about half a mile
off, and something in the cut of his jib seemed familiar. I got my