THE DOUBLE A LI HI 155 



Scott rode about and about, searching the low 

 heather as I had done, but to no purpose. He 

 rode on, and, glancing back, saw the same man at 

 the same place. He turned his horse, galloped 

 to the spot, and again nothing ! 'Then,' says 

 Sir Walter, ' neither the mare nor I cared to wait 

 any longer.' Neither had I cared to wait, and if 

 there is any shame in the confession, on my head 

 be it! 



There came a week of blazing summer weather ; 

 tramping over moors to lochs like sheets of 

 burnished steel was out of the question, and I 

 worked at my book, which now was all but 

 finished. At length I wrote THE END, and '6 le 

 bon ouff ! que je poussais,' as Flaubert says about 

 one of his own laborious conclusions. The weather 

 broke, we had a deluge, and then came a soft 

 cloudy day, with a warm southern wind suggesting 

 a final march on Loch Nan. I packed some 

 scones and marmalade into my creel, filled my 

 flask with whiskey, my cigarette-case with cigar- 

 ettes, and started on the familiar track with the 

 happiest anticipations. The Lone Fisher was 



