Skye, Island of (Scotland) -- Description and travel
parcels, turning over the pages of a ledger. He did not lift his
eyes when I entered. I intimated my wish to procure two places
toward Broadford. He turned a page, lingered on it with his eye as
if loath to leave it, and then inquired my business. I repeated my
message. He shook his head. "You are too late; you can't get on
to-day." "What! can't two places be had?" "Not for love or money,
sir. Last week Lord Deerstalker engaged the mail for his servants.
Every place is took." "The deuce! do you mean to say that we can't
get on?" The man, whose eyes had returned to the page, which he held
all the while in one hand, nodded assent. "Come, now, this sort of
thing won't do. My friend and I are anxious to reach Broadford
to-night. Do you mean to say that we must either return or wait here
till the next mail comes up, some three days hence?" "You can post,
if you like: I'll provide you with a machine and horses." "You'll
provide us with a machine and horses," said I, while something shot
through my soul like a bolt of ice.
I returned to Fellowes, who replied to my recital of the interview
with a long whistle. When the mail was gone, we formed ourselves
into a council of war. After considering our situation from every
side, we agreed to post, unless the landlord should prove more than
ordinarily rapacious. I went to the little office and informed him
of our resolution. We chaffered a good deal, but at last a bargain
was struck. I will not mention what current coin of the realm was
disbursed on the occasion; the charge was as moderate as in the
circumstances could have been expected. I need only say that the
journey was long, and to consist of six stages, a fresh horse at
every stage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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