We decided that Alan would stay hidden in the fields, while I walked to Queensferry to find Mr Rankeillor. Alan promised not to come out until he heard me return. In order to be sure that it was me, he taught me to whistle a little Gaelic song. I have never forgotten it. I think that it will run in my head when I lie dying. Every time it comes to me, I think of that last day of my travels, with Alan whistling opposite me in the grass, while the first light of the sun touched his face.
Soon I arrived in Queensferry. When I saw people looking strangely at me, and realized how dirty my clothes were, I began to feel afraid. Would Mr Rankeillor want to talk to me? How could I prove who I was? I had no papers with me. I was too ashamed to ask any of the townspeople for help, so I walked up and down，not knowing what to do.
By midday I was tired and hungry. I stopped in front of a large house, with clean windows, flowers in the garden, and a dog sitting on the doorstep.
Suddenly the door opened,and a large, well-dressed, kind-looking man came out.
'What are you doing here, my lad?' he asked.
'I'm looking for Mr Rankeillor's house, sir,' I answered.
'Well, I'm Rankeillor, and this is my house. Who are you?'
'My name is David Balfour,' I replied.
'David Balfour?' he repeated, and looked closely at me. 'Come inside, Mr Balfour, and we'll talk.'
In Mr Rankeillor's comfortable sitting-room, I told him the story of my early life, and explained that my uncle had paid Captain Hoseason to kidnap me and take me to sea.
The lawyer listened carefully. 'I heard that Hoseason's ship went down near the island of Mull two months ago,' he said. 'What have you been doing since then?'
'I can easily tell you, sir,' I replied, 'but if I tell you, a friend's life may be in danger. Promise me that you will not get him into trouble, or tell the soldiers about him!'
Although he looked a little worried at first, he promised, and I told him the rest of my adventures. While I talked, his eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep, but I discovered soon afterwards that he had understood and remembered everything.
When spoke the name of Alan Breck, he opened his eyes and sat up. 'Don't use unnecessary names, Mr Balfour,' he said. 'A lawyer has to be very careful, when discussing Highlanders. I don't think I heard your friend's name very well. Let's call him—Mr Thomson.'
'Of course,' I thought, 'all over Scotland people are talking about Alan, now that he's accused of the murder of Colin Campbell.' I was sure that Rankeillor had recognized his name. But I just smiled, and continued my story, using the name of Mr Thomson instead of Alan Breck.