wood of Lettermore (or Lettervore, for I have heard it both ways) in

Alan's country of Appin.

This was a wood of birches, growing on a steep, craggy side of a

mountain that overhung the loch. It had many openings and ferny howes;

and a road or bridle track ran north and south through the midst of

it, by the edge of which, where was a spring, I sat down to eat some

oat-bread of Mr. Henderland's and think upon my situation.

Here I was not only troubled by a cloud of stinging midges, but far more

by the doubts of my mind. What I ought to do, why I was going to join

myself with an outlaw and a would-be murderer like Alan, whether I

should not be acting more like a man of sense to tramp back to the south

country direct, by my own guidance and at my own charges, and what Mr.

Campbell or even Mr. Henderland would think of me if they should ever

learn my folly and presumption: these were the doubts that now began to

come in on me stronger than ever.

As I was so sitting and thinking, a sound of men and horses came to me

through the wood; and presently after, at a turning of the road, I saw

four travellers come into view. The way was in this part so rough and

narrow that they came single and led their horses by the reins. The

first was a great, red-headed gentleman, of an imperious and flushed

face, who carried his hat in his hand and fanned himself, for he was in

a breathing heat. The second, by his decent black garb and white wig,

I correctly took to be a lawyer. The third was a servant, and wore some

part of his clothes in tartan, which showed that his master was of a

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