AN ANGLER'S PARADISE 



125 



tale ending in glory, with Ronald playing the pipes 

 until morning. As it was, we wended our way 

 dourly back to the hotel in the gloaming, while 

 behind us, from a rift in the western sky, like 

 the eye of Heaven, a wan glare was shed over 

 the landscape, against which the everlasting hills 

 showed a dusky purple. 



