My name is David Balfour and my story begins one morning in June 1751. This was the day I left my father’s house in Essendean for the last time. My friend Mr Campbell was waiting for me.

 ‘I’ll go with you to the river,’ said Mr Campbell. We walked together down the road without speaking.

         After a while, Mr Campbell asked, ‘Are you sorry to leave Essendean?’

         ‘I don’t know, sir,’ I replied, ‘because I don’t know where I’m going or what will happen to me. I’ve been very happy in Essendean, but I’ve never been anywhere else. My mother and father are dead now, and I’m going to find my future.’

         Mr Campbell told me that my father had given him a letter before he died. He said that it was my inheritance.

         ‘Here’s the letter,’ said Mr Campbell, giving it to me. ‘Your father told me to give you the letter and send you to the House of Shaws, near Edinburgh. It’s where your father came from and he wants you to return there.’

         The letter was addressed to ‘Mr Ebenezer Balfour, House of Shaws’. Under the address was written, ‘This letter will be brought by my son David Balfour.’

         I was surprised because I knew nothing about the House of Shaws. I was only seventeen years old and I felt scared about the new part of my life that was about to begin.

         Mr Campbell said goodbye. I looked at Essendean for the last time, then I turned and walked towards Edinburgh and my future.

         On the morning of the second day, l came to the top of a hill. Below me, I saw the city of Edinburgh and the sea. There were ships on the sea. I saw a group of English soldiers — the ‘Redcoats’ — marching along the road.

         When I was closer to Edinburgh, I asked people for directions to the House of Shaws. Everyone seemed surprised when I asked about this house. At first I thought it was because I looked very poor. But after a while I thought that there was something strange about the House of Shaws. I began to worry. Before, I imagined a big house with rich relatives. Now it seemed that this was not true.

         ‘What is waiting for me at the House of Shaws?’ I thought. There was only one way to find out.

         I walked on. Soon, I saw a large house standing alone in the bottom of the next valley. It was the House of Shaws. It was not how I imagined. The house was very old and in bad condition. There was no gate at the entrance, no path to the front door and no smoke came from the chimneys. It looked empty.

         It was dark when I arrived at the house and there were no lights on. I knocked once on the big wooden door. I waited but nothing happened. I knocked again. Nothing happened but I heard someone inside, so I became angry. I started kicking the door and shouting for Mr Balfour.

         I heard a sound above me. I looked up and there was a man with a big gun looking out of the upstairs window.

         ‘It’s loaded,’ he said.

         ‘I have a letter,’ I said, ‘for Mr Ebenezer Balfour.’

         ‘Who are you?’ the man asked, still holding the gun.

          ‘I’m David Balfour,’ I replied.

         After a long pause, the man spoke again, but more quietly.

         ‘Is your father dead?’ he asked. ‘He must be dead. That’s why you’re here. I’ll let you in.’

         The door opened and I went into the house.

         ‘Let me see the letter,’ the man said. I told him the letter was for Mr Balfour, not for him.

         ‘I am Mr Balfour,’ he said. ‘I’m your father’s brother, your uncle’.

         I looked at him in surprise — I did not know that my father had a brother.

         He showed me to a room to sleep in. Then he pushed me inside and locked the door behind me. I wanted to cry. I was tired from my long walk. I lay down and soon fell asleep.