At another time he was still more successful.  The revenue officers and their escort surprised his house at midnight, and demanded admission in the King’s name.  Old Jeandy, his mother, who was then alive, made as much difficulty as possible in getting the door open in order to give Davie time to conceal himself.  But he did better than hide in the house.  Springing out of bed, he actually broke a hole through the “divets” or turfs of the thatch, and creeping through it, climbed down outside, just as his adversaries, certain of capturing their prize, were mounting the ladder which led to his bed-chamber.  When the exciseman saw the empty bed he cried with an angry oath: 

“Here’s the nest—­still warm; but the bird’s awa’!” The “bird” had flown to a more hidden place of retirement under cover of the darkness!

In later years Davie was not much molested by the representatives of the excise.  A gauger was indeed stationed in a town ten miles distant, but he was elderly, and not over energetic.  He would make a formal visit now and again to suspected districts, and content himself with a few casual inquiries.  As a matter of fact, he was personally quite inadequate to the task of searching for illicit stills in a district of such abundant hidden recesses.

But there was a change of front when the old officer retired and a young and energetic man succeeded him.  A “new broom” is eulogized in proverb; and Mr. Michael Bonar, being new to his district, and a man of youth and determination, boasted that he meant to sweep away the taint of smuggling from the neighborhood of Ardmuirland, which bore a bad name in that respect.

The boast of the incautious gauger was repeated far and wide, and a strong spirit of opposition was aroused.  Many a wary practitioner began to devise cunning means of concealment, and to invent traps to catch their adversary and turn him into ridicule.  Davie Forbes was not behindhand in making remote preparations for the ganger’s certain visit to him.  But it was then mid-winter, and if Bonar was the canny man that he was said to be, there would be little fear of any attempted search for Davie’s implements and stores before spring had set in.  So the Forbes family congratulated themselves upon the security of their airy nest, and would smile grimly when the name of Bonar was mentioned.

The gauger was, it is true, canny, but his youth made him perhaps a trifle too venturesome.  He was not unused to climbing, and had scaled many a mountain more imposing than Ben Sguarrach; but it was not in winter; forgetfulness of that trifling circumstance led to his discomfiture.  Ben Sguarrach was indeed no pleasant place in wintry weather.  Its open spaces were swept by icy blasts; snow often drifted to unparalleled depths, and made the ascent dangerous to those who were not familiar with the mountain in its more peaceful aspects.