of women as any monk, had fallen wildly in
love with a child of half my age. I was loath to admit it, though for
weeks the conclusion had been forcing itself on me. Not that I didn't
revel in my madness, but that it seemed too hopeless a business, and I
had no use for barren philandering. But, seated on a rock munching
chocolate and biscuits, I faced up to the fact and resolved to trust my
luck. After all we were comrades in a big job, and it was up to me to
be man enough to win her. The thought seemed to brace any courage that
was in me. No task seemed too hard with her approval to gain and her
companionship somewhere at the back of it. I sat for a long time in a
happy dream, remembering all the glimpses I had had of her, and humming
her song to an audience of one black-faced sheep.

On the highroad half a mile below me, I saw a figure on a bicycle
mounting the hill, and then getting off to mop its face at the summit.
I turned my Ziess glasses on to it, and observed that it was a country
policeman. It caught sight of me, stared for a bit, tucked its machine
into the side of the road, and then very slowly began to climb the
hillside. Once it stopped, waved its hand and shouted something which I
could not hear. I sat finishing my luncheon, till the features were
revealed to me of a fat oldish man, blowing like a grampus, his cap
well on the back of a bald head, and his trousers tied about the shins
with string.

There was a spring beside me and I had out my flask to round off my
meal.

'Have a drink,' I said.

His eye brightened, and a smile overran his moist face.

'Thank you, sir. It will be very warrm coming up the brae.'

'You oughtn't to,' I said. 'You really oughtn't, you know. Scorching up
hills and then doubling up a mountain are not good for your time of
life.'

He raised the cap of my flask in solemn salutation. 'Your very good
health.' Then he smacked his lips, and had several cupfuls of water
from the spring.

'You will haf come from Achranich way, maybe?' he said in his soft
sing-song, having at last found his breath.

'Just so. Fine weather for the birds, if there was anybody to shoot
them.'

'Ah, no. There will be few shots fired today, for there are no
gentlemen left in Morvern. But I wass asking you, if you come from
Achranich, if you haf seen anybody on the road.'

From his pocket he extricated a brown envelope and a bulky telegraph
form. 'Will you read it, sir, for I haf forgot my spect