To Bonar’s ardent mind the season of the year seemed likely to assist rather than hinder him.  Days were short; nights were dark (if the moon should happen to be unpropitious), but they were long.  No work was possible at such a time in a mountain distillery, and stores could not be shifted so readily as in summer time.  So he determined to bide his opportunity and make a secret visit to Davie Forbes’ dwelling, just to reconnoiter.  He would thus be enabled to form his plan of campaign for a more bold attack.

Unfortunately, the gauger did not thoroughly know the people he had to deal with or he would have made allowance for their clannish devotion to each other’s interests.  Every one recognized him as a public enemy, and however politely he might be treated public sympathy was on the side of his opponents.  He might flatter himself that he was keeping his intentions and movements absolutely secret, yet it was impossible not to take some one or other into his confidence; thus it came about that tidings of his intended visit flew to Davie at least a week before his attempt.

In consequence of this fact, all incriminating evidence was carefully concealed by the old man and his sons, and it would have taken a sharper man than Bonar—­intelligent as he was—­to discover any traces of illicit distilling in the neighborhood of their house.  There was one suspicious feature only; a large eighteen-gallon barrel, full of something—­whatever the liquid might be—­was barely covered by peat-turfs heaped over it under the shelter of the end wall of the byre.  But it had not been overlooked; arrangements had been made in its regard, should circumstances demand its more thorough concealment, otherwise it must not be disturbed.  For—­if the truth must be told—­that particular cask contained the store of whiskey which Davie had been carefully preserving for his last act of hospitality; it was for the entertainment of those who would attend his funeral.  Who, indeed, was able to provide refreshment for the crowd of mourners who would surely assemble on such an occasion, if not Davie, whose “whuskey” was renowned in the whole countryside?

Bonar had the good sense to keep from every one the actual date of his intended visit, lest tidings should reach the Forbes.  He fixed upon a night when there would be an early rising moon to light him.  On the morning of the day he made all his preparations very carefully.  In view of an absence of some hours, he provided himself with a good packet of sandwiches and a flask of spirits.  He then set out for Fouranbuie Inn, a dreary hostel about four miles distant from the foot of the mountain.  There he made a substantial meal, and about four in the afternoon started on his quest.  He had resolved to ride off from the inn on his bicycle, ostensibly toward a village farther on; then to dismount at the foot of Ben Sgurrach, and, hiding his machine in some bushes, to start the climb as dusk fell.  Jock, as he had found out, was accustomed to approach from another direction when returning from work.