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David Balfour is the name I am known by. This is my lucky
day, when I have just come into a landed estate, and am not very
long out of a deadly peril. I wish you would keep my name in mind
for the sake of Balwhidder," said I, "and I will yours for the sake
of my lucky day."
"My name is not spoken," she replied, with a great deal of
haughtiness. "More than a hundred years it has not gone upon men's
tongues, save for a blink. I am nameless, like the Folk of Peace.
{3} Catriona Drummond is the one I use."
Now indeed I knew where I was standing. In all broad Scotland
there was but the one name proscribed, and that was the name of the
Macgregors. Yet so far from fleeing this undesirable acquaintancy,
I plunged the deeper in.
"I have been sitting with one who was in the same case with
yourself," said I, "and I think he will be one of your friends.
They called him Robin Oig."
"Did ye so?" cries she. "Ye met Rob?"
"I passed the night with him," said I.
"He is a fowl of the night," said she.
"There was a set of pipes there," I went on, "so you may judge if
the time passed.


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