I knew roughly the _Tobermory's_ course--through the Sound of Islay to Colonsay; then up the east side of Mull to Oban; then through the Sound of Mull to the islands with names like cocktails, Rum and Eigg and Coll; then to Skye; and then for the Outer Hebrides.

I thought the last would be the place, and it seemed madness to leave the boat, for the Lord knew how I should get across the Minch.

This consideration upset all my plans again, and I fell into a troubled sleep without coming to any conclusion.
Morning found us nosing between Jura and Islay, and about midday we touched at a little port, where we unloaded some cargo and took on a couple of shepherds who were going to Colonsay.

The mellow afternoon and the good smell of salt and heather got rid of the dregs of my queasiness, and I spent a profitable hour on the pier-head with a guide-book called _Baddely's Scotland_, and one of Bartholomew's maps.
I was beginning to think that Amos might be able to tell me something, for a talk with the captain had suggested that the _Tobermory_ would not dally long in the neighbourhood of Rum and Eigg.

The big droving season was scarcely on yet, and sheep for the Oban market would be lifted on the return journey.