boy now than any girl I've ever seen. There'll be no need to hide and fear questions along the way. The ferryman will point you on the path to Kilmacolm, and once you're there at the crossroads, you'll ask the way to Lochwinnoch. Ladymuir's along that way. You'll find it easily enough."
"Have you been there yourself, Mr. Lithgow?"
"I have. Many years ago. With your father."
It was the first time he'd told me of it. Questions bubbled up inside me. I had to pause and choose them carefully. I knew Mr. Lithgow wouldn't like to be asked too many.
"Did you ever meet my uncle Blair?" I said at last. "What kind of a man is he?"
He chewed at his mustache as he tried to think of an answer.
"He's a tall-enough fellow."
I waited hopefully.
"A good farmer, I'm told. A respectable man. An elder of the church."
"Oh."
This was daunting news. What would an elder of the church think of me, a condemned witch, running around the country dressed as a boy?
"He's a man of the Covenant, so I've heard. A very staunch one."
"A what?"
"A Covenanter."
I'd never heard the word before. I didn't like to show my ignorance but luckily he went on.
"You'll not have heard much about the Covenanters, Maggie?"
"No."
"You will soon. The whole countryside in these parts and down around Kilmacolm is buzzing with the struggle."
"What struggle?"
He scratched at his ear this time, as if he didn't know where to begin.
"You'll have heard of the king, Charles Stuart?"
I nodded warily, though I hardly ever had.
"He sits in England with the crown on his head and thinks he can tell us up here what's right and what's wrong. What business is it of his to tell us here in Scotland how to say our prayers?"
He sounded bitter.
"Are you a Covenanter, then, Mr. Lithgow?"
"Me? I can't read or write. A drover like me goes around the country here and there. Who's going to ask me what I think about how the church should be governed and whether the king's bishops should be the men to do it? No one's asked me to sign the Covenant and call myself a Covenanter. There's right on their side, I suppose. The king wants his own way, but if it isn't God's way, then he shouldn't have it."
"What's the king's way?" I asked, even more confused. "What's God's way?"
But Mr. Lithgow had come to the end of his patience with my questions, and as he always did when he wanted a conversation to end, he whistled to the dogs to round up imaginary stragglers.
***
We came into Dumbarton late that afternoon. I could hear the noise of the place a good mile before we reached the town, which lay on the shores of the Clyde. There was a din of shouting men and lowing cattle, the clatter of hooves on wooden ramps, and all the hammering and banging of tradespeople at work. There must have been thirty or forty houses in Dumbarton, and more than a thousand people congregated in the open there. I had never seen such a big town or thought that so many people could be gathered together in one place. I felt nervous and stayed as close to Mr. Lithgow as I could.
We had spent the night at a drovers' stance only a mile or so from the town, so it was still early in the day. I could tell by the frown drawing Mr. Lithgow's bushy brows together that he was preoccupied with the business ahead. As he led his cattle into the sales area, his eyes darted about, looking critically at the state of other herds and comparing them to his own.
Down on the shore, wide, flat-bottomed boats were drawn up out of the current of the swift-flowing estuary. Cows were being driven up the ramps onto the boats, bellowing with nerves. The corners of Mr. Lithgow's eyes crinkled in a quick smile of recognition as he stared at the boatmen.
"Here, Peter, watch the herd," he said suddenly, and hurried down to talk to one of the men who was standing by the mast of his boat, untying the reefs of the sail. The boat was already laden with cattle, and the other boatmen were ready at the oars.
Mr. Lithgow turned and beckoned to me.
"That's you away, then," said Peter Boag.
I was already hurrying toward the boat and didn't take in what he meant.
"Mr. Gillies is ready to take you across, Ma—Danny," Mr. Lithgow said. "Hurry and fetch your bundle."
I raced back to