"Yes, a woman was with her; had been staying with them some days."
"I hope you can find the way in the dark," said the Doctor, "for I can tell you I can't."
"No fear, sir," said the man; "there's a track all the way, and the moon's full. If it wasn't for the fog it would be as bright as day."
He took a hasty meal, and started. They went at a foot's pace, for the shepherd was on foot. The track was easily seen, and although it was exceedingly cold, the Doctor, being well wrapped up, contrived, with incessant smoking, to be moderately comfortable. All external objects being a blank, he soon turned to his companion to see what he could get out of him.
"What part of the country are you from, my friend?"
"Fra' the Isle of Skye," the man answered. "I'm one of the Macdonalds of Skye."
"That's a very ancient family, is it not?" said the Doctor at a venture, knowing he could not go wrong with a Highlander.
"Very ancient, and weel respeckit," the man answered.
"And who is your sheik, rajah, chieftain, or what you call him?"
"My lord Macdonald. I am cousin to my lord."