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about primitive habitations. To battledore between myself and me it seemed inconceivably ab- my conscience. surd; but he was strong in his “You are a coward,” said my confidence, and without flaw in conscience. his evidence. The man irritated "I am sufficiently brave," I me, and I burned to prove him would answer.

“I have seen wrong, but I could think of no things and yet lived. The terror argument which

final is more than mortal, and I canagainst his. Then it flashed not face it.” upon me that my own experi “You are a coward,” said my ence held the disproof ; and conscience. without more words I left him, “I am not bound to

go

there hot, angry with myself, and again. It would be purely for tantalised by the unattainable. my own aggrandisement if I

I might relate my bona-fide went, and not for any matter of experience, but would men be- duty.” lieve me? I must bring proofs, “Nevertheless you are a cowI must complete my researches, ard,” said my conscience. so as to make them incapable of “In any case the matter can disbelief. And there in those wait." deserts was waiting the key. “You are a coward.” There lay the greatest discovery of the century-nay, of the mil

Then came

one awful midlennium. There, too, lay the summer night, when I lay sleeproad to wealth such as I had less and fought the thing out never dreamed of. Could I suc with myself.

I knew that the ceed, I should be famous for strife was hopeless, that I should ever. I would revolutionise have no peace in this world history and anthropology ; I again unless I made the attempt. would systematise folk-lore; I The dawn was breaking when I would show the world of men came to the final resolution; and the pit whence they were digged when I rose and looked at my and the rock whence they were face in a mirror, lo! it was hewn.

white and lined and drawn like And then began a game of a man of sixty.

CHAPTER VI.-SUMMER ON THE MOORS.

The next morning I packed a death, and added a codicil which bag with some changes of cloth- puzzled the lawyers. If I did ing and a collection of notebooks, not return within six months, and went up to town. The first communications were to be thing I did was to pay a visit entered into with the shepherd to my solicitors.

“I am about at the shieling of Farawa-postto travel,” said I, “and I wish town Allerfoot. If he could to have all things settled in case produce any papers, they were any accident should happen to to be put into the hands of cerme." So I arranged for the dis- tain friends, published, and the posal of my property in case of cost charged to my estate. From

my solicitors I went to a gun- man who would show me the maker's in Regent Street and road to Farawa. I demanded bought an ordinary six-cham- company, not for protectionbered revolver, feeling much as

for what could two men do a man must feel who proposed against such brutish strength ? to cross the Atlantic in a skiff —but to keep my mind from its and purchased a small life-belt own thoughts. as a precaution.

The man looked at me anxiI took the night express to ously. the North, and, for a marvel, I “Are ye acquaint wi' the folks, slept. When I woke about four then?” he asked. we were on the verge of West I said I was, that I had often moreland, and stony hills blocked stayed in the cottage. the horizon. At first I hailed “Ye ken that they've a name the mountain-land gladly; sleep for being queer. The man never for the moment had caused for comes here forbye once or twice getfulness of my terrors. But a-year, and he has few dealings soon a turn of the line brought wi' other herds. He's got an me in full view of a heathery ill name, too, for losing sheep. moor, running far to a confusion I dinna like the country ava. of distant peaks. I remembered Up by yon Muneraw-no that my mission and my fate, and if I've ever been there, but I've ever condemned criminal felt a seen it afar off—is enough to more bitter regret I pity his put a man daft for the rest o’

Why should I alone his days. What's taking ye among the millions of this happy thereaways? It's no the time isle be singled out as the reposi- for the fishing ?” tory of a ghastly secret, and be I told him that I was a botcursed by a conscience which anist going to explore certain would not let it rest?

hill-crevices for rare ferns. He I came to Allerfoot early in shook his head, and then after the forenoon, and got a trap to some delay found me an ostler drive me up the valley. It was who would accompany me to a lowering grey day, hot and the cottage. yet sunless. A sort of heat The man was a shock-headed, haze cloaked the hills, and long-limbed fellow, with fierce every now and then a

red hair and a humorous eye. of rain would meet us on the He talked sociably about his road, and in a minute be over. life, answered my hasty quesI felt wretchedly dispirited; tions with deftness, and beguiled and when at last the white- me for the moment out of mywashed kirk of Allermuir came self. I passed the melancholy into sight and the broken-backed lochs, and came in sight of the bridge of Aller, man's eyes great stony hills without the treseemed to have looked on no pidation I had expected. Here drearier scene since time began. at my side was one who found

I ate what meal I could get, some humour even in those upfor, fears or no, I was vora- lands. But one thing I noted ciously hungry. Then I asked which brought back the old the landlord to find me some uneasiness. He took the road

case.

smurr

was

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about primitive habitations. To battledore between myself and
me it seemed inconceivably ab- my conscience.
surd; but he was strong in his “ You are a coward,” said my
confidence, and without flaw in conscience.
his evidence. The man irritated “I am sufficiently brave,” I
me, and I burned to prove him would answer. “I have seen
wrong, but I could think of no things and yet lived. The terror
argument which final is more than mortal, and I can-
against his.

Then it flashed not face it."
upon me that my own experi “You are a coward," said my
ence held the disproof; and conscience.
without more words I left him, “I am not bound to

go

there hot, angry with myself, and again. It would be purely for tantalised by the unattainable. my own aggrandisement if I

I might relate my bona-fide went, and not for any matter of experience, but would men be- duty.” lieve me? I must bring proofs, “Nevertheless you are a cowI must complete my researches, ard,” said my conscience. so as to make them incapable of “In any case the matter can disbelief. And there in those wait.” deserts was waiting the key. “ You are a coward.” There lay the greatest discovery of the century-nay, of the mil

Then came

one awful midlennium. There, too, lay the summer night, when I lay sleeproad to wealth such as I had less and fought the thing out never dreamed of. Could I suc with myself. I knew that the ceed, I should be famous for strife was hopeless, that I should

I would revolutionise have no peace in this world history and anthropology ; I again unless I made the attempt. would systematise folk-lore; I The dawn was breaking when I would show the world of men came to the final resolution; and the pit whence they were digged when I rose and looked at my and the rock whence they were face in a mirror, lo! it was hewn.

white and lined and drawn like And then began a game of a man of sixty.

ever.

CHAPTER VI. - SUMMER ON THE MOORS.

were

The next morning I packed a death, and added a codicil which bag with some changes of cloth- puzzled the lawyers. If I did ing and a collection of notebooks, not return within six months, and went up to town. The first communications

to be thing I did was to pay a visit entered into with the shepherd to my solicitors.

solicitors. “I am about at the shieling of Farawa-postto travel,” said I, “and I wish town Allerfoot. If he could to have all things settled in case produce any papers, they were any accident should happen to to be put into the hands of cer

So I arranged for the dis- tain friends, published, and the posal of my property in case of cost charged to my estate. From

me.

my solicitors I went to a gun man who would show me the maker's in Regent Street and road to Farawa. I demanded bought an ordinary six-cham- company, not for protectionbered revolver, feeling much as for what could two men do a man must feel who proposed against such brutish strength ? to cross the Atlantic in a skiff -but to keep my mind from its and purchased a small life-belt own thoughts. as a precaution.

The man looked at me anxiI took the night express to ously. the North, and, for a marvel, I “Are ye acquaint wi' the folks, slept. When I woke about four then?” he asked. we were on the

verge

of West I said I was, that I had often moreland, and stony hills blocked stayed in the cottage. the horizon. At first I hailed “Ye ken that they've a name the mountain-land gladly; sleep for being queer. The man never for the moment had caused for comes here forbye once or twice getfulness of my terrors. But a-year, and he has few dealings soon a turn of the line brought wi' other herds. He's got an me in full view of a heathery ill name, too, for losing sheep. moor, running far to a confusion I dinna like the country ava. of distant peaks. I remembered Up by yon Muneraw—no that my mission and my fate, and if I've ever been there, but I've ever condemned criminal felt a seen it afar off—is enough to more bitter regret I pity his put a man daft for the rest o'

Why should I alone his days. What's taking ye among the millions of this happy thereaways? It's no the time isle be singled out as the reposi- for the fishing ?tory of a ghastly secret, and be I told him that I was a botcursed by a conscience which anist going to explore certain would not let it rest?

hill-crevices for rare ferns. He I came to Allerfoot early in shook his head, and then after the forenoon, and got a trap to some delay found me an ostler drive me up the valley. It was who would accompany me

to a lowering grey day, hot and the cottage. yet sunless. A sort of heat The man was a shock-headed, haze cloaked the hills, and long-limbed fellow, with fierce every now and then a smurr red hair and a humorous eye. of rain would meet us on the He talked sociably about his road, and in a minute be over. life, answered my hasty quesI felt wretchedly dispirited; tions with deftness, and beguiled and when at last the white me for the moment out of mywashed kirk of Allermuir came self. I passed the melancholy into sight and the broken-backed lochs, and came in sight of the bridge of Aller, man's eyes great stony hills without the treseemed to have looked on no pidation I had expected. Here drearier scene since time began. at my side was one who found

I ate what meal I could get, some humour even in those upfor, fears or no, I was vora- lands. But one thing I noted ciously hungry. Then I asked which brought back the old the landlord to find me some uneasiness. He took the road

case.

Will you

see

which led us farthest from Car- The man left me, sturdily rerickfey, and when to try him I fusing any fee. “I wantit my proposed the other, he vetoed it legs stretched as weel as you. with emphasis.

A walk in the hills is neither After this his good spirits here nor there to a stoot man. departed, and he grew dis- When will ye be back, sir?” trustful.

The question was well-timed. “What mak's ye a freend o'“To-morrow fortnight,” I said, the herd at Farawa ?” he de- “and I want somebody from manded a dozen times.

Allermuir to come out here in Finally, I asked him if he the morning and carry some knew the man, and had seen baggage.

to him lately.

that?“I dinna ken him, and I He said “Ay," and went off, hadna seen him for years till while I scrambled down the hill a fortnicht

syne,

when a' Aller- to the cottage. Nervousness muir saw him. He cam doun possessed me, and though it one afternoon to the public- was broad daylight and the hoose, and begood to drink. whole place lay plain before me, He had aye been kenned for a I ran pell-mell, and did not stop terrible godly kind o' a man, so

till I reached the door. ye may believe folk wondered The place was utterly empty. at this. But when he had stuck Unmade beds, unwashed dishes, to the drink for twae days, and a hearth strewn with the ashes filled himsel' blind-fou half-a- of peat, and dust thick on everydozen o' times, he took a fit thing, proclaimed the absence of o' repentance, and raved and inmates. I began to be horribly blethered about siccan a life as frightened. Had the shepherd he led in the muirs. There was and his sister, also, disappeared ? some said he was speakin' seri- Was I left alone in the bleak ous, but maist thocht it was place, with a dozen lonely miles juist daftness.”

between me and human dwell“ And what did he speak ings? I could not return about?” I asked sharply. alone; better this horrible place

“I canna verra weel tell ye. than the unknown perils of the It was about some kind o' out-of-doors.

Hastily I barribogle that lived in the Mune- caded the door, and to the best raw—that's the shouthers o't ye of my power shuttered the see yonder—and it seems that windows; and then with dreary the bogle killed his sheep and forebodings I sat down to wait frichted himsel'.

on fortune. bletherin', too, about something In a little I heard a long or somebody ca'd Grave; but swinging step outside and the oh! the man wasna wise.' And sound of dogs. Joyfully I my companion shook a con- opened the latch, and there was temptuous head.

the shepherd's grim face waitAnd then below us in the ing stolidly on what might valley we saw the shieling, with appear. a thin shaft of smoke rising At the sight of he into the rainy grey weather. stepped back. “ What in the

He was aye

me

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