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           AlanIsawbelievedit,orhalfbelievedit;andwhenthecryoftheriverrosemorethanusuallysharp,Iwaslittlesurprised(though,ofcourse,Iwouldstillbeshocked)toseehimcrosshimselfinthemanneroftheCatholics.

           Duringallthesehorridwanderingswehadnofamiliarity,scarcelyeventhatofspeech.ThetruthisthatIwassickeningformygrave,whichismybestexcuse.ButbesidesthatIwasofanunforgivingdispositionfrommybirth,slowtotakeoffence,slowertoforgetit,andnowincensedbothagainstmycompanionandmyself.Forthebestpartoftwodayshewasunweariedlykind;silent,indeed,butalwaysreadytohelp,andalwayshoping(asIcouldverywellsee)thatmydispleasurewouldblowby.ForthesamelengthoftimeIstayedinmyself,nursingmyanger,roughlyrefusinghisservices,andpassinghimoverwithmyeyesasifhehadbeenabushorastone.

           Thesecondnight,orratherthepeepofthethirdday,foundusuponaveryopenhill,sothatwecouldnotfollowourusualplanandliedownimmediatelytoeatandsleep.Beforewehadreachedaplaceofshelter,thegreyhadcomeprettyclear,forthoughitstillrained,thecloudsranhigher;andAlan,lookinginmyface,showedsomemarksofconcern.

           “Yehadbetterletmetakeyourpack,”saidhe,forperhapstheninthtimesincewehadpartedfromthescoutbesideLochRannoch.

           “Idoverywell,Ithankyou,”saidI,ascoldasice.

           Alanflusheddarkly.“I’llnotofferitagain,”hesaid.“I’mnotapatientman,David.