‘There is some reason in that,’ said the gauger; ‘and yet,’ he muttered, ‘it is a sly way of demonstrating the necessity of his endless questions.’
After going some distance in silence, Eachainn, thinking himself bound to say something, began with, ‘You’ll be a stranger to this country, sir.’
‘You may say that, man; but what sort of a place is this Dunvegan?’
‘It’s a bonny place eneuch, and no want of what’s right, and the uisge-beatha is plenty, and she’s rail goot; but I doubt it’ll no be so goot and so plenty now, for they say that a sgimilear of a gauger is coming to live among us; I hope he may break his neck on the way.’
Here Mr Gillespie appeared suddenly to have seen something amiss with the bridle, which necessitated his bending down for a moment or two, and no doubt this accounted for his face being slightly flushed when he raised his head, and, giving the unconscious Eachainn an indignant look, said, ‘Hem, ahem! what right has a mere lad like you to speak so disrespectfully of one you never saw, and who never harmed you.’
‘May his gallows be high and his halter tight!’ was the laconic but emphatic reply.
‘You young heathen, how dare you say so of a stranger, and without any reason either.’
‘Reason in plenty. Is he not coming to stop us from making our whusky? And there is my uncle Donald has a still in Craig-bheatha, and my mother helps him to make the malt, and gets a piggie (jar) for herself at the New-Year; and there’s Somhairle Dubh, at the change house, has a still in his barnyard near the——’
‘Hush, friend!’ interrupted Gillespie, clapping his hand on the Highlander’s mouth, ‘Dinna betray secrets so.’ He then added with great dignity, ‘Young man, you have abused me, and called me vile names to my face, but for that I forgive you, as it was done in ignorance, but you should be more respectful in referring to His Majesty’s revenue service, for I am that very excise officer, or gauger, as you call me, who am appointed by my king and country to watch over the interests of the revenue in this most outlandish corner of his dominions. Heaven help me withal! Now friend, understand me, I will do my duty without fear, favour, or affection; yes,’ he continued, rising into energy as he spoke, and, to Eachainn’s consternation, drawing his sword and flourishing it over his head, ‘yes, I will do so even unto death; but,’ he added after a pause, ‘I am no hunter after unguarded information, and God forbid the poor should want their New-Year whisky because I am in the parish. But be more discreet in future, for assuredly I must do my duty, and grasp, seize, capture, and retain unlawful liquor and implements of its manufacture, whenever I find them, for I am sworn to do this; but,’ he concluded, with a bow to his pack-saddle, ‘I will always strive to do my duty like a gentleman.’
Eachainn’s emotions during this oration were of a mingled character. At first pure shame was uppermost, for having, as he unwittingly discovered he had done, insulted a duine-uasal. Accordingly an honest blush spread over his sun-freckled face, and he hung down his head. Then came concern for having, as he apprehended, betrayed the private affairs of his uncle and Somhairle Dubh to the hands of the spoiler. When the gauger flourished his sword, Eachainn thought it was all over with him; but when he heard the conclusion of the speech, which he tried hard to comprehend, it was with a feeling of great respect he replied, repeating his bow, ‘I thocht you was a duine-uasal from the first, sir; and I beg your pardon a thousand times for foolish words spoke without thinkin’, and I could cut my tongue off for having spoke.’