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Chapter 17

           

           AtlastwecamesonearthepointoflandattheenteringinofLochLeventhatIbeggedtobesetonshore.Myboatman(whowasanhonestfellowandmindfulofhispromisetothecatechist)wouldfainhavecarriedmeontoBalachulish;butasthiswastotakemefartherfrommysecretdestination,Iinsisted,andwassetonshoreatlastunderthewoodofLettermore(orLettervore,forIhavehearditbothways)inAlan’scountryofAppin.

           Thiswasawoodofbirches,growingonasteep,craggysideofamountainthatoverhungtheloch.Ithadmanyopeningsandfernyhowes;andaroadorbridletrackrannorthandsouththroughthemidstofit,bytheedgeofwhich,wherewasaspring,Isatdowntoeatsomeoat-breadofMr.Henderland’sandthinkuponmysituation.

           HereIwasnotonlytroubledbyacloudofstingingmidges,butfarmorebythedoubtsofmymind.WhatIoughttodo,whyIwasgoingtojoinmyselfwithanoutlawandawould-bemurdererlikeAlan,whetherIshouldnotbeactingmorelikeamanofsensetotrampbacktothesouthcountrydirect,bymyownguidanceandatmyowncharges,andwhatMr.CampbellorevenMr.Henderlandwouldthinkofmeiftheyshouldeverlearnmyfollyandpresumption:thesewerethedoubtsthatnowbegantocomeinonmestrongerthanever.

           AsIwassosittingandthinking,asoundofmenandhorsescametomethroughthewood;andpresentlyafter,ataturningoftheroad,Isawfourtravellerscomeintoview.Thewaywasinthispartsoroughandnarrowthattheycamesingleandledtheirhorsesbythereins.

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