I turned down a lane, and could see the
man and woman that I'd spoken to stopping to look after me.

I was wrong in the thinking that I should reach my uncle's house
unknown. At all events, I was known after I'd entered the house, though
there was naebody there. The first thing I did was to stir up the
embers o' the fire, for I was chilled, though it was a warm summer's
day; then I cut a slice from the loaf, and took a mug o' milk from the
pan; an' then went to the ben, to see after washing myself, and go on to
my ain auld room, to look what had come o' my claes.

The room was altered, but the chest was there; and though my _men's_
claes had gone, some of my _boy's_ claes were there; an' even some of
them that I wore as a child, when Aunt Tibbie made me a new suit. I was
thocht to be dead, then, but wasna' forgotten.

If a mon can cry, it does him a world o' good at times--that is, if he
doesna' cry much nor often. I cried, and it did me good. Then I went
up to the little bit o' broken glass that was nailed to the wa' to speer
what like I was. My hair had began to whiten--bleached, maybe, by the
sea air. I had a strange, wild look, for hair and beard had grown all
tangled, and my face was grey instead of red-brown, as it once was.
Would my uncle know me?

When I went down again to eat some more bread, and to look for a little
whisky to put wi' the milk, there was a man's face peerin' through the
window; and before I could stir, the door-latch clicked, and in walked
my uncle Ivan. I had started to my feet, and my uncle strode in, with
his hand uplifted, as if to strike me.

I never stirred, but looked at him full in the eyes.

His hand fell to his side.

"What brings ye here frae the dead, or from waur than the dead, Sandy
Macpherson?" he exclaimed, hoarsely.

"I've no been that far; if they that I'd have looked for had looked for
me," I answered. "If Rory Smith is alive, he can tell ye about it; or
if his dead body's been found, I'll tell my story over that afore all
Slievochan."

"Then it was you, after all?" said my uncle, sinking into a seat, and
leaning his head on his hands. "An' I've stood up for ye, and swore
that if there was foul play 'twas he, and not you--or maybe Preece, as
your aunt thocht at first, because he had the necklace. Can ye, an'
will ye, clear up this dreadfu' mystery?"

"Uncle Ivan," I said, takin' him by both hands; "look at my face and
hair; look close at my claes and sh