selessly to wild places in the Hebrides
by false reports. Twice we wandered away inland, following gentlemen who
answered generally to the description of Mr. James Smith, but who turned
out to be the wrong men as soon as we set eyes on them. These vain
excursions--especially the three to the western islands--consumed time
terribly. It was more than two months from the day when we had left
Darrock Hall before we found ourselves up at the very top of Scotland at
last, driving into a considerable sea-side town, with a harbor attached
to it. Thus far our journey had led to no results, and I began to
despair of success. As for Mr. Dark, he never got to the end of his
sweet temper and his wonderful patience.

"You don't know how to wait, William," was his constant remark whenever
he heard me complaining. "I do."

We drove into the town toward evening in a modest little gig, and put
up, according to our usual custom, at one of the inferior inns.

"We must begin at the bottom," Mr. Dark used to say. "High company in a
coffee-room won't be familiar with us; low company in a tap-room will."
And he certainly proved the truth of his own words. The like of him for
making intimate friends of total strangers at the shortest notice I have
never met with before or since. Cautious as the Scotch are, Mr. Dark
seemed to have the knack of twisting them round his finger as he
pleased. He varied his way artfully with different men, but there were
three standing opinions of his which he made a point of expressing in
all varieties of company while we were in Scotland. In the first place,
he thought the view of Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat the finest in
the world. In the second place, he considered whisky to be the most
wholesome spirit in the world. In the third place, he believed his late
beloved mother to be the best woman in the world. It may be worthy
of note that, whenever he expressed this last opinion in Scotland, he
invariably added that her maiden name was Macleod.

Well, we put up at a modest little inn near the harbor. I was dead tired
with the journey, and lay down on my bed to get some rest. Mr. Dark,
whom nothing ever fatigued, left me to take his toddy and pipe among the
company in the taproom.

I don't know how long I had been asleep when I was roused by a shake on
my shoulder. The room was pitch dark, and I felt a hand suddenly clapped
over my mouth. Then a strong smell of whisky and tobacco saluted my
nostrils, and a whis