"It’s a peety ye’re no’ traivellin’ my road," said the wayfarer. "A braw young callant like you wi’ the King’s uniform on his back would mak’ a graun convoy for an auld man alang this lanely road." "No," I answered, as I handed him his bottle, "My way lies in another direction." "Ye’ll no’ happen to be ane o’ Lag’s men, are ye?" He did not await my reply, but continued: "He’s a bonnie deevil, Lag! He kens the richt medicine for Covenanters: but I ken the richt medicine for Jock Tamson," and putting the bottle to his lips he drank deep and long. Then he staggered to the side of the road and sat down, and holding the bottle towards me said: "Sit doon and gi’es yer crack." Now I had no wish to be delayed by this half-drunken countryman; but I thought that he might be of service to me, so I seated myself and pretended once again to take a deep draught from his bottle. He snatched it from my lips. "Haud on," he said, "ye’ve got a maist uncanny drouth, and that bottle maun last me till Setterday." "Unless you leave it alone," I said, "it will be empty ere you reach home." "Weel, what if it is?" he hiccoughed. "The Lord made guid drink and I’m no’ the man to spurn the mercies o’ the Creator." "Well," I said, "your drink is good, and I’m as dry as ashes. Can you tell me where I can get a bottle." "Oh, weel I can, an’ if ye’re minded to gang and see Luckie Macmillan, I’ll gi’e ye a convoy. The guid woman’ll be bedded sine, but she’ll rise tae see to ony frien’ o’ Jock Tamson’s. Come on, lad," and he raised himself unsteadily to his feet and, taking me by the arm, began to retrace his steps in the direction from which he came. We followed the high road for perhaps a mile, and as we went he rambled on in good-natured but somewhat incoherent talk, stopping every now and then while he laid hold of my arm and tapped my chest with the fingers of his free hand to emphasise some empty confidence. He had imparted to me, as a great secret, some froth of gossip, when he exclaimed: "Weel: here we are at Luckie’s loanin’ and the guid-wife is no’ in her bed yet; I can see a licht in the window." We turned from the high road and went down the lane, at the bottom of which I could discern the dark outline of a cottage. As we drew near I was startled by the sound of a restless horse pawing the ground and, quick in its wake, the jangle of a bridle chain. A few more steps and I saw two horses tethered to the gatepost, and their harness was that of the dragoons. I was walking into the lion’s den! "So Luckie’s got company, guid woman," hiccoughed my companion. "I hope it’s no’ the gaugers." I seized on the suggestion in hot haste: "Wheesht, man," I hissed, "they are gaugers sure enough, and if you are caught here with a bottle of Luckie’s best, you’ll be up before Provost Coltran at the next Session in Wigtown." "Guid help us! an’ me a God-fearin’ man. Let’s rin for’t."