The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-12-11

When my uncle spoke again il was in n
mighty changed voice as ne asked his
visitors business. Alan made himself out
TO he Highlander into whose family
had been thrown after nv shipwrecS, and
that they were in manner holding me
for ransom.
My uncle cleared his throat. I'm no
very caring" SAYS he. "IIe was nae a
good lad at the best of ii, and I've nae call
TO interfere"
We'll. Mr.. Balfour," replied Alan, ''by
all that could hear, there were two ways
of it: either ye liked David and would pay
to get him back, or else We had very good
pay Us to keep him."
My uncle so dilly-dailied in his reply
that Alan became angry. "Troth. sir, T"
he said, II ask for nothing but plain deal
ing. In two words, do ye want the lad
killed or kept?"
ooh, keep it, keep it!' walled my
uncle. We'll have nae bloodshed, If you
please"
We'll, well. "said Alan. 'and now about
the price. It's no very easy for ME to set
name upon it; | would first have TO ken
some small matters. l would have to ken,
for instance, what we gave Hoseason at the
first off-go?"
'Hoseason?" cries my uncle, struck
abaek- What for?"
Its lee. it's black lee!" cried my
uncle. ''He was never kidnapped"
That's no fault of mine, nor yet of
yours" said Alan: NOR yet of Hosea
son g, If he's man that can be trusted. !"
What do ye mean?" cried Ebenezer;
did Hoseason tell YEP"
Why, ye donnered auld runt, how else
would | ken ?' cried Alan. ''Hoseason and
are partners; We gang shares; so We can
see for yourself what good We can do lee
ing. And | must plainly say We drove a
FOOLS bargain when We let man like the
sailorman SO far forward YOU IN private
matters. But that's past praying for; and
ye must lie on your bed the way we made
it. And the point in hand is Just this !:
what did We pay him?"
Has he tauld we hImsel'?" asked my
uncle
That's my concern" said Alan.
Weel, said my uncle, Il dinna care
what he said, he Iced, and the solemn
Gods truth is this, that / gave him twenty
pound. But I'll be perfectly honest with
ye; forby that he was to have the selling
OF the lad in Caroliny. whiik would be as
muckle mair. but no from my pocket, We
see"
Thank YOU. Mr.. Thompson. That will
do excellently well" SAID the lawyer,
stepping forward; and then, mighty civily,
Good evening, Mr.. Balfour," said he.
And, Good evening, Uncle Ebenezer,"
said /.
And, Its Draw NIGHT, Mr.. Balfour,"
added florence.
Never word said my uncle. neither
black nor white. but just sat where ne was
on the top doorstep and stared upon us
like a man turned to stone.
Come, come, Mr.. Ebenezer," said the
lawyer. you must not be downhearted,
for | promise you We shall make easy
hnY, Il.
me by the hand, mr.. David, says he, II
wish you all joy in your good fortune,
which believe to be deserved
The lawyer and my uncle passed into
the next chamber to consult. They come
to good understanding, and NV uncle
and set our hands to the agreement in q
formal manner. By the terms of this my
session of the house and lands. and bound
himself to satisfy Rankeillor as TO his in
tromissions, ald to pay me two clear
thirds of the yearly income.
So the beggar in the ballad had come
home. and when lay down that night on
the kitchen chests was man of means
and had name in the country.
The next morning Mr.. Rankeillor
wrote me two letters, making his COM
nents on them as he wrote.
This, says he. sis to my bankers, the
British Linen Company, placing credit
TO your name. trust you will be good
husband of your money; but in the affair
of friend like Mr.. Thompson. | would
be even prodigal. Then, for his kinsman.
there Is no better way than that you
should seek the advocate, tell him your
tale, and offer testimony. Now that you
may reach the lord advocate well recon-
mended. give you. here letter to a
namesake of your own, the learned Mr.
Balfour of Pilrig. 1t will look better that
you should be presented by one of your
own name, and the laird of Pilrig is much
looked UP to in the faculty and stands
with Lord Advocate Grant"
Thereupon he took his farewell, and set
out with Torrance for the ferry. while
Alan and turned our faces for the city of
Edinburgh. We talked of what should
be done; and it was resolved that Alan
should keep to the country, bidlng now
here, now there, but coming once in day
to particular place where l might be
able to communicate with him, either in
my own person or by messenger. In the
meantime | was to seek out n lawyer, who
was an Appin Stewart and a man, there
fore, to be wholly trusted: and it should
be his part to find a ship and arrange for
Alan's safe embarkation.
So We parted, and as | went on my way
to the city felt so lost and lonesome that
| could have found it in my heart to sit
a baby.
1t was coming near noon when passed
in by the West Kirk and the Grassmarket
into the streets of the capital. The huge
heights of the buildings, running up to
ten and fifteen stories, the narrow arched
entries that continually vomited passen-
gers, the wares of the merchants in their
windows, the hubbub and endless stir, the
foul smells and the fine clothes, and
hundred other particulars too small To
mention. struck me into kind of stupor
of surprise, so that let the crowd carry
me to and fro. and yet all the time what I
was thinking of was Alan, and all the
time (although you would think | would
not choose but be delighted with these
braves and novelties) there was a cold
Gnawing in my inside like a remorse for
something wrong.
The hand of Providence brought me in
my drifting to the very doors of the Brit
ish Linen Companv's bank.