Mostly Irish and lads frae Fife and Falkirk way.' I didn't pursue the subject, for I had found Demas's silver-mine.

If the _Tobermory_ lay at Ranna for a week, Gresson would have time to do his own private business.

Ranna would not be the spot, for the island was bare to the world in the middle of a much-frequented channel.

But Skye was just across the way, and when I looked in my map at its big, wandering peninsulas I concluded that my guess had been right, and that Skye was the place to make for.
That night I sat on deck with Gresson, and in a wonderful starry silence we watched the lights die out of the houses in the town, and talked of a thousand things.

I noticed--what I had had a hint of before--that my companion was no common man.