152 GOLDEN DAYS 



six Dark Olive Duns neatly reposing side 

 by side upon the further bank. The 

 fisher regarded them coldly, vaguely 

 wondering how far it was round by the 

 nearest bridge. It was just at this 

 moment when he realised that the one 

 and only trout had ceased to feed. The 

 friendly hum of insects had died away. 

 There was an uneasy feeling all over the 

 valley. A portentous silence. 



I looked behind me. A great black 

 storm-cloud was moving up, full of awful 

 menace. At the first rip of the thunder I 

 was impressed by the fact that the shelter 

 of the mill was a good half-mile higher up 

 the valley. I started off, but could not 

 reach it. The storm broke as 1 gained a 

 mass of druid remains, roofed by a vast 

 stone table. Here I found sanctuary. 

 It was all extraordinarily exhilarating and 

 unexpected. Around me the thunder 

 roared and rattled. The lightning slashed 

 across the hills. Heaven's water-spouts 

 were loosed. The rain battered the river 

 pools to froth, and tumbled in small cas- 

 cades from between the giant granite 

 stones, flooding my rocky chamber. 



