68 ON THE MOORLANDS 
cousins, the farm hens, produced a lively 
scramble for the coveted tit-bit. 
Last night a thunderstorm had waked 
most sleepers in the great metropolis ; but 
XXVIII: ‘WHY WERE THEY ALARMED SO SUD- 
DENLY ?’ 
now no traces of the rain were left, for the 
bright sun had changed it all. Lowlands 
always have a special charm, I think. Rugged 
cloud-capped mountain tops and_ raging 
streams, broken here and there by roaring 
