We decided¹ that Alan would stay hidden in the fields, while I walked to Queensferry to find Mr Rankeillor. Alan promised not to come out until he heard me return. In order to be sure that it was me, he taught me to whistle a little Gaelic song. I have never forgotten it. I think that it will run in my head when I lie dying². Every time it comes to me, I think of that last day of my travels, with Alan whistling oppo site me in the grass, while the first light of the sun touched his face.

 

Soon I arrived in Queensferry. When I saw people looking strangely at me, and realized how dirty my clothes were, I be gan to feel afraid. Would Mr Rankeillor want to talk to me?How could I prove who I was? I had no papers with me. I was too ashamed to ask any of the townspeople for help, so I walked up and down, not knowing what to do.

 

By midday I was tired and hungry. I stopped in front of a large house, with clean windows, flowers in the garden, and a dog sitting on the doorstep.

 

Suddenly the door opened, and a large, well-dressed, kind-looking man came out.

 

"What are you doing here, my lad?" he asked.

 

"I'm looking for Mr Rankeillor's house, sir,"I answered.

 

" Well, I'm Rankeillor, and this is my house.

 

Who are you?"

 

"My name is David Balfour," I replled.

 

"David Balfour?" he repeated, and looked closely³ at me. "Come inside, Mr Balfour, and we'll talk."

 

In Mr Rankeillor's comfortable sitting－room, I told him the story of my early life, and explained that my uncle had paid Captain Hoseason to kidnap⁴ me and take me to sea.

 

The lawyer listened carefully. "I heard that Hoseason's ship went down near the island of Mull two months ago," he said.

 

"What have you been doing since then?"

 

"I can easily tell you, sir, I replied, "but if I tell you, a friend's life may be in danger. Promise me that you will not get him into trouble, or tell the soldiers about him!"

 

Although he looked a little worried at first, he promised, and I told him the rest of my adventures While I talked, his eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep, but I discovered soon afterwards that he had understood and remennbered everything.

 

Whem O spoke⁵ the name of Alan Breck, he opened his eyes and sat up. "Don't use unnecessary names, Mr Balfour, " he said. "A lawyer has to be very careful, when discussing High landers. I don't think I heard your friend's name very well. Let's call him -- Mr Thomson."

 

"Of course," I thought, "all over Scotland⁶ people are talk ing about Alan, now that he's accused of the murder of Colin Campbell." I was sure that Rankeillor had recognized his name. But I just smiled, and continued my story, using the name of Mr Thomson instead of Alan Breck. "Well, well," said the lawyer, when I had finished, " what an exciting adventure! You will have to write it down one day! I had heard of you, Mr David, from your friends in Essendean, who wrote to me when they had no word from you. Your uncle then told me that he had given you money to study in Europe, but I did not think that was true. I'm afraid we all know that Ebenezer Balfour is not a very good or honest man! Then Captain Hoseason appeared, saying that you were lost when his ship went down. But now I understand what really happened, and I know that you are David Balfour." He put a hand on my shoulder in a fatherly way and continued. "You'll want to know about the house of Shaws. It's a strange story. When they were young, your father Alexander and his younger brother Ebenezer loved the same girl. Your father was always a kind, loving brother, so when the girl decided to marry him, Alexander left Cramond and let Ebenezer have the house and farmland. Well, I think it was a bad mistake. What happened was that your parents were always very poor, and Ebenezer became more and more interested in money. He never married, of course."

 

"Well, sir,"I said, " and now, what will happen?"

 

"Now that your father is dead," replied the lawyer, "you own the house of Shaws and the farms around it. But Ebenezer won't accept that, and it will be expensive if he wants us to prove it in court. In fact, we must stay out of court, if possible. The kidnapping will be difficult to prove, and we don't want people asking questions abut⁷ your friend Mr Thomson. No, I think that we should leave Ebenezer at Shaws, where he's been for twenty－five years, and ask him to pay you some money everyyear, instead of giving you the house. What do you think?"#p#分页标题#e#

 

"That sounds excellent to me, sir," I replied. " But I think that we could accuse my uncle of kidnapping me. It's easier to prove than you think. Listen,"and I described my plan to him. 

He was very pleased with it. "Yes, Mr David, very good! If we can catch Ebenezer like that, he can't refuse to give you some of the money that belongs to you!" He called to his sec retary, Torrance. "You must come with us tonight, Torrance. You'll have to listen to the conversation you hear, and write it all down. And bring the Balfour papers with you." Then he turned to me. "But if I accept your plan, Mr David, I'll have to meet your friend Mr Thomson, who may be, I only say may be, a criminal."He was silent for a while, thinking deeply, then went on, "Well, let's talk of something different. Do you know, the other day, I saw Torrance in the street?But because I wasn't wearing my glasses, I didn't recognize him! My own secretary! Ha－ha－ha!" and he laughed happily at himself.

 

I smiled politely. "Perhaps he's getting old,"I thought.

 

But later that evening, when Mr Rankeillor, Torrance and I were walking out of Queensferry, the lawyer suddenly cried out, laughing, "Well, how stupid of me! I've forgotten my glasses!"And I understood why he had told met he story about Torrance. Now he could meet Alan, a man wanted for murder, and if the soldiers asked him later for information he could say that he never saw Alan clearly and could not possibly recognize him.

 

When we arrived near Alan's hiding－place, I whistled the little Highland⁸ song. When he appeared, we explained to him what we wanted him to do, and he readily⁹ agreed.

 

So the four of us continued walking until we reached the house of Shaws.

 

It was a dark night, and there were no lights in the windows. My uncle was probably in bed. Mr Rankeillor, Torrance and I hid below the steps, near enough to hear any conversation, while Alan went straight up to the door and knocked loudly. After some time my uncle opened his bedroom window, and called down, in a frightened voice, " What do ye want at this time of night? Who are ye?"

 

"I do not want to give ye my own name," replied Alan, "but I've come to talk to ye about someone called -- David."

 

"What!" cried my uncle. And after a moment, he said un happily, "Will ye come inside, to discuss -- the matter?"

 

"I will not," said Alan sharply¹⁰. "It's here on this doorstep that we must talk.

Come down and speak to me."

 

After Ebenezer had thought about it, he decided to do what Alan wanted. It took him a long time to come downstairs, and a longer time to unlock¹¹ the heavr door, but at last we saw him in the doorway¹², holding his gun in his shaking hands.

 

" Now," said Alan, "ye're intelligent enough to see that I'm a Highlander¹³. I have friends who live near the island of Mull. Well, it seems that a ship went down near there, and soon afterwards my friends found a lad, half－dead, on the beach. Your nephew, Mr Balfour. Since then they've been taking care of him. And now they'd like to know, Mr Balfour, if ye want him back. Ye'll have to pay, if ye do. My friends are very poor.

 

"I don't want him back," said my uncle. "He wasn't a good lad. I won't pay a shilling¹⁴ for him!"

"Blood's thicker than water, sir," said Alan. "He's your brother's son! But if ye don't want him back, will ye pay us to keep him? And ye'll have to hurry. I'm not waiting here all night!"

 

"Give me a minute to think, will ye?" cried my uncle.

 

"In two words, sir, do ye want us to kill or keep the lad?"

 

"Oh, sir!" cried Ebenezer. "Don't talk of killing¹⁵!"

 

"Well, killing's easier, and quicker, and cheaper."

 

"I'm an honest man," said my uncle, "and no murderer¹⁶."

 

" Well, well," replied Alan, " and now how much will ye pay for us to keep him? First I need to know how much ye paid Hoseason to kidnap the lad. How much was it?"

 

"Hoseason? Kidnap? What are ye talking about, man?" screamed my uncle, jumping up and down on the doorstep.

 

"Hoseason himself has told me about it," said Alan calmly, "so ye needn't pretend. Just answer the question, or ye'll find my sword in your stomach!"

 

"Don't get angry!" cried my uncle. "I gave him twenty pounds, that's all. But to be honest with ye -- he was going to sell the lad as a slave, and keep that money, ye see."#p#分页标题#e#

 

" Thankyou, Mr Thomson, that's excellent," saidthe lawyer, stepping forward. "Good evening, Mr Balfour," he said politely to the old man.

 

And, "Good evening, uncle Ebenezer," said I.

 

And, "It's a grand evening, Mr Balfour," added Torrance.

 

My uncle said nothing, but stood there on the doorstep with his mouth open. We took him into the kitchen, and sat down to discuss matters. After an hour, it was all decided. My uncle accepted that Shaws belonged to me, but he would stay there during his lifetime. He agreed to pay me money every year, and Mr Rankeillor would check that he did.

 

We all stayed that night at the house of Shaws. But while Alan and Torrance and Mr Rankeillor slept on the hard beds upstairs, I lay down on the kitchen chests, which now belonged to me. I, who had slept out on the hills for so many days and nights, was now the owner of a large house and several farms.

 

My head was full of exciting plans and ideas, and I found it difficult to sleep.

 

The next day, while Mr Rankeillor and I were having breakfast together, I talked to him about Alan.

 

"Mr Thomson is still in danger," said the lawyer. "He must leave the country as soon as possible, and stay with his friends in France for a while. I'll give you money to buy him a place on a ship. He'll have to stay hidden until then."

 

"And his clansman, James Stewart, who's in prison?" I asked. "I know he didn't kill Colin Campbell. I saw the mur derer! I must speak for James Stewart in court!"

 

"My dear boy," said Rankeillor, "it's dangerous for anyone to speak for a Stewart in Campbell court. But you must do what you think is right. I'll write you a letter to a good lawyer who will be able to help Mr Thomson's clansman." He stood up. "Well, I think that we've finished our business here. I must leave now, and go back to my work. Come and see me often, Mr David! Goodbye!"

 

Alan and I started walking towards Edlnburgh, while Mr Rankeillor and Torrance turned back to Queensferry. we talked about what would happen next. Alan was going to hide in the countryside near Edinburgh, until it was safe for him to take a ship to France.

 

When I had found him a place, I would send him a message. Then I planned to go back to the High lands to help James Stewart return to his family.

 

Alan and I walked slowly. We were both thinking that soon we would have to leave each other. And we had been through so much together!We stopped when we came to the top of the Corstorphine Hill, and looked down at Edinburgh. We knew that this was the moment to say goodbye, but we stood there silently for a while.

 

"Well, goodbye," said Alan, and held out his hand.

 

" Goodbye," I said, and took his hand.

 

Then I went off down hill. I did not look back at him, but I felt very miserable¹⁷, and wanted to sit down and cry like a baby.

 

Edinburgh was full of noise and traffic and people, but I did not notice any of that. All the time I was thinking of Alan on the hill, and there was an ice-cold feeling inside me.

 

In the months that followed, I kept Alan's silver button safe and often looked at it, remembering our escape through the heather in the wild Highlands. I felt proud to call Alan Breck Stewart my friend, and wondered if I would ever see him again. When I returned to the Highlands to help his clansman, James, I found that my adventures with the Stewarts were far from finished… but that is another story.

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