234 "THE MOOR AND THE LOCH" 



guest with the Celtic innkeepers and boatmen. 

 Strangers were as few and far between as cocks in 

 September. You had the best parlour and bedroom 

 placed at your disposal ; the fattest fowl was killed 

 for you forthwith for you were sure to find next to 

 nothing in the larder and a flask of the mellowest 

 Glenlivet came forth from the recesses of the cellar. 

 Now, unless you send warning a week beforehand, you 

 may count on being turned away from the door. One 

 of the parlours is made to do duty for a "coffee-room," 

 and you must be content with a table hustled away in 

 the corner. The house is crowded from ground-floor 

 to garret with Saxons from the Stock Exchange or the 

 Inns of Court, who have run down for a ten days' 

 fishing holiday. Capital fellows they may be in 

 ordinary circumstances, but the sentiments of jealous 

 repulsion are mutual. These first comers have the 

 best of it, for they have the most skilful of the 

 boatmen in their pay. With an et tu Brute expres- 

 sion of countenance, you learn that the most trusted 

 of your former allies have sold themselves and their 

 services for Southern gold ; nor will they show much 

 scruple as to lying on occasion, if you appeal to their 

 old friendship through the medium of the cigar-case or 

 the whisky-bottle. We will suppose you are lucky 

 enough to find a boat for next day with somebody 

 to pull you about in it. You make a start in the 

 smallest of the small hours, and are rowed round to 

 your favourite bay. A piratical craft is already in 

 occupation, skulking to and fro under shadow of the 



