6
“Go and scout ahead, Niall,” Father said as we approached the southern end of Bealach nan Bo. “I would not put it past the Militiamen to be searching for us.”
“We are not carrying whisky,” Niall said.
“They have found one of our stills,” Father said. “There is nothing to prevent them saying that we were carrying whisky on our garrons.”
“Ensign Hepburn would not do that,” I said.
“Perhaps not.” Father did not comment on my knowledge of the freckled ensign. He would ask me later. “Captain Barrow would.”
I nodded. “I think that you are right.” I had taken a dislike to the captain.
“Off you go, Niall.” Father nodded, and Niall disappeared up the pass, keeping off the path so nobody could see him.
“Niall’s a good lad,” Father said. “You could do a lot worse.”
“Thank you, Father.” I t
