"It's like making me a traitor!" "Now, Alan, man!" cried James.

"Look things in the face! He'll be papered anyway; Mungo Campbell'll be sure to paper him; what matters if I paper him too?
And then, Alan, I am a man that has a family." And then, after a little pause on both sides, "And, Alan, it'll be a jury of Campbells," said he.
"There's one thing," said Alan, musingly, "that naebody kens his name." "Nor yet they shallnae, Alan! There's my hand on that," cried James, for all the world as if he had really known my name and was foregoing some advantage.

"But just the habit he was in, and what he looked like, and his age, and the like?
I couldnae well do less." "I wonder at your father's son," cried Alan, sternly.

"Would ye sell the lad with a gift?
Would ye change his clothes and then betray him ?" "No, no, Alan," said James.

"No, no: the habit he took off--the habit Mungo saw him in." But I thought he seemed crestfallen; indeed, he was clutching at every straw, and all the time, I dare say, saw the faces of his hereditary foes on the bench, and in the jury-box, and the gallows in the background.
"Well, sir" says Alan, turning to me, "what say ye to, that?
Ye are here under the safeguard of my honour; and it's my part to see nothing done but what shall please you." "I have but one word to say," said I; "for to all this dispute I am a perfect stranger.