CHAPTER XXVII 



ACROSS THE MOOR 



A LITTLE, irregular patch of blue on the map, 

 four miles across the moor, over ground that 

 promises considerable exertion, is all our 

 invitation. We might go by road all but the last 

 half-mile, but there is one good reason why we 

 should select a more varied route. 



Early in the morning we set out along the stony, 

 winding, island track, by the side of a prattling 

 burn ; the sound of the tinkling waterfall bids us 

 halt as it does every day, and as usual we peer 

 cautiously through the clusters of pink roses adorning 

 the bank into the deep little pot, black in the 

 shadows, golden in the sunshine. Two or three 

 plump trout, quarter pounders they seem to be, 

 cruise about, sucking down occasionally some un- 

 fortunate midge or rising to examine some object 

 floating in the foam ; one a little better than its 

 fellows poises itself in the bubbling water of the 

 fall ; the monarch of the pool occupies the best 

 position. Some day, perhaps we may stop to offer 

 them a fly, but it is not likely ; we would rather 

 have them where they are than in the creel. 



In any case we cannot linger to-day, for ahead 

 lies an adventure. The expedition is one of uncer- 

 tainty ; there are many possibilities, but what they 



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