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- Джон Джон Бакен
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One
day
he
produced
my
belt
from
a
lockfast
drawer
.
"
There
's
a
terrible
heap
o
'
siller
i
n't
,
"
he
said
.
"
Ye
'd
better
coont
it
to
see
it
's
a
'
there
.
"
He
never
even
sought
my
name
.
I
asked
him
if
anybody
had
been
around
making
inquiries
subsequent
to
my
spell
at
the
road-making
.
"
Ay
,
there
was
a
man
in
a
motor-cawr
.
He
speired
whae
had
ta'en
my
place
that
day
,
and
I
let
on
I
thocht
him
daft
.
But
he
keepit
on
at
me
,
and
syne
I
said
he
maun
be
thinkin
'
o
'
my
gude-brither
frae
the
Cleuch
that
whiles
lent
me
a
haun
'
.
He
was
a
wersh-lookin
'
sowl
,
and
I
couldna
understand
the
half
o
'
his
English
tongue
.
"
I
was
getting
restless
those
last
days
,
and
as
soon
as
I
felt
myself
fit
I
decided
to
be
off
.
That
was
not
till
the
twelfth
day
of
June
,
and
as
luck
would
have
it
a
drover
went
past
that
morning
taking
some
cattle
to
Moffat
.
He
was
a
man
named
Hislop
,
a
friend
of
Turnbull
's
,
and
he
came
in
to
his
breakfast
with
us
and
offered
to
take
me
with
him
.
I
made
Turnbull
accept
five
pounds
for
my
lodging
,
and
a
hard
job
I
had
of
it
.
There
never
was
a
more
independent
being
.
He
grew
positively
rude
when
I
pressed
him
,
and
shy
and
red
,
and
took
the
money
at
last
without
a
thank
you
.
When
I
told
him
how
much
I
owed
him
,
he
grunted
something
about
"
ae
guid
turn
deservin
'
anitherv
"
You
would
have
thought
from
our
leave-taking
that
we
had
parted
in
disgust
.
Hislop
was
a
cheery
soul
,
who
chattered
all
the
way
over
the
pass
and
down
the
sunny
vale
of
Annan
.
I
talked
of
Galloway
markets
and
sheep
prices
,
and
he
made
up
his
mind
I
was
a
"
pack-shepherd
"
from
those
parts
--
whatever
that
may
be
.
My
plaid
and
my
old
hat
,
as
I
have
said
,
gave
me
a
fine
theatrical
Scots
look
.
But
driving
cattle
is
a
mortally
slow
job
,
and
we
took
the
better
part
of
the
day
to
cover
a
dozen
miles
.
If
I
had
not
had
such
an
anxious
heart
I
would
have
enjoyed
that
time
.
It
was
shining
blue
weather
,
with
a
constantly
changing
prospect
of
brown
hills
and
far
green
meadows
,
and
a
continual
sound
of
larks
and
curlews
and
falling
streams
.
But
I
had
no
mind
for
the
summer
,
and
little
for
Hislop
's
conversation
,
for
as
the
fateful
fifteenth
of
June
drew
near
I
was
overweighed
with
the
hopeless
difficulties
of
my
enterprise
.
I
got
some
dinner
in
a
humble
Moffat
public-house
,
and
walked
the
two
miles
to
the
junction
on
the
main
line
.
The
night
express
for
the
south
was
not
due
till
near
midnight
,
and
to
fill
up
the
time
I
went
up
on
the
hillside
and
fell
asleep
,
for
the
walk
had
tired
me
.
I
all
but
slept
too
long
,
and
had
to
run
to
the
station
and
catch
the
train
with
two
minutes
to
spare
.
The
feel
of
the
hard
third-class
cushions
and
the
smell
of
stale
tobacco
cheered
me
up
wonderfully
.
At
any
rate
,
I
felt
now
that
I
was
getting
to
grips
with
my
job
.
I
was
decanted
at
Crewe
in
the
small
hours
and
had
to
wait
till
six
to
get
a
train
for
Birmingham
.
In
the
afternoon
I
got
to
Reading
,
and
changed
into
a
local
train
which
journeyed
into
the
deeps
of
Berkshire
.
Presently
I
was
in
a
land
of
lush
water-meadows
and
slow
reedy
streams
.
About
eight
o'clock
in
the
evening
,
a
weary
and
travel-stained
being
--
a
cross
between
a
farm-labourer
and
a
vet
--
with
a
checked
black-and-white
plaid
over
his
arm
(
for
I
did
not
dare
to
wear
it
south
of
the
Border
)
,
descended
at
the
little
station
of
Artinswell
.
There
were
several
people
on
the
platform
,
and
I
thought
I
had
better
wait
to
ask
my
way
till
I
was
clear
of
the
place
.
