and grey about our onward path. An infinity of little country by-roads
led hither and thither among the fields. It was the most pointless
labyrinth. I could see my destination overhead, or rather the peak that
dominates it, but choose as I pleased, the roads always ended by turning
away from it, and sneaking back towards the valley, or northward along
the margin of the hills. The failing light, the waning colour, the
naked, unhomely, stony country through which I was travelling, threw me
into some despondency. I promise you, the stick was not idle; I think
every decent step that Modestine took must have cost me at least two
emphatic blows. There was not another sound in the neighbourhood but
that of my unwearying bastinado.

Suddenly, in the midst of my toils, the load once more bit the dust,
and, as by enchantment, all the cords were simultaneously loosened, and
the road scattered with my dear possessions. The packing was to begin
again from the beginning; and as I had to invent a new and better
system, I do not doubt but I lost half an hour. It began to be dusk in
earnest as I reached a wilderness of turf and stones. It had the air of
being a road which should lead everywhere at the same time; and I was
falling into something not unlike despair when I saw two figures
stalking towards me over the stones. They walked one behind the other
like tramps, but their pace was remarkable. The son led the way, a tall,
ill-made, sombre, Scottish-looking man; the mother followed, all in her
Sunday's best, with an elegantly embroidered ribbon to her cap, and a
new felt hat atop, and proffering, as she strode along with kilted
petticoats, a string of obscene and blasphemous oaths.

I hailed the son, and asked him my direction. He pointed loosely west
and north-west, muttered an inaudible comment, and, without slackening
his pace for an instant, stalked on, as he was going, right athwart my
path. The mother followed without so much as raising her head. I shouted
and shouted after them, but they continued to scale the hillside, and
turned a deaf ear to my outcries. At last, leaving Modestine by herself,
I was constrained to run after them, hailing the while. They stopped as
I drew near, the mother still cursing; and I could see she was a
handsome, motherly, respectable-looking woman. The son once more
answered me roughly and inaudibly, and was for setting out again. But
this time I simply collared the mother, who was nearest me, and,