ut he reflected with grim amusement that Daly
would find the traveling rough if he got on his trail.

There were, however, some things he needed for the journey, and he went
out to buy them while the shops were open. Next morning he gave
instructions that letters for himself and Lawrence should be sent to
Peebles, and when the clerk objected that he could not forward
Featherstone's without the latter's orders, said it did not matter. He
had left a clew for Daly, which was all he wanted, but, in order to
make it plainer, he sent the porter to the station with the bag and
told him to wait by the Peebles train. Then he set off, dressed in the
oldest clothes he had, wondering what adventures he would meet with in
the wilds.

XI

THE POACHERS

Foster left Peebles soon after his arrival and following the Tweed down
stream to Traquair turned south across the hills. A road brought him
to Yarrow, where he sat down to smoke in the shelter of a stone dyke by
the waterside. He had no reason to believe that he was followed, and
there were two good hotels beside St. Mary's loch, which was not far
off. But Foster did not mean to stay at good hotels and knew that Daly
would not have much trouble in reaching St. Mary's in a car if he
arrived at Peebles by a later train. It would then be difficult to
keep out of his way, and if he found Foster alone, he would, no doubt,
go back to look for Lawrence at the Garth. Taking this for granted,
Foster thought it better to put Ettrick Forest between himself and
possible pursuit.

It looked a lonely region on the map, and when he glanced south the
hills loomed, dark and forbidding, through thin gray mist. Pools of
water dotted the marish fields, and beyond these lay a wet, brown moss
where wild cotton grew among the peat-hags. Plover were crying about
the waste and a curlew's shrill tremolo rang out as it flitted across
the leaden sky. The outlook was not encouraging, but Foster picked his
way across the bog and struck up the side of a fell. There was a road,
but it would take him some distance round.

Wiry grass twined about his feet, he sank in velvety green patches
where the moss grew rank, and walking was harder when he crossed belts
of withered heath. Here and there a gnarled thorn bush rattled its dry
twigs in the wind; there were bits of dykes and rusty wire fences, but
he saw no path except the winding tracks the sheep had made. Still
Ettrick water was not far o