I70 ANGLING SKETCHES 



a low bedstead, a shelf or two, whereon lay a few 

 books — a Shakespeare, a Homer, a Walton, 

 Plutarch's ' Lives ' ; very little else out of a library 

 once so rich. There was a tub of- oatmeal, a heap 

 of dry peat, two or three eggs in a plate, some 

 bottles, a keg of whiskey, some sardine-tins, a box 

 with clothes — that was nearly all the ' plenishing ' 

 of this hermitage. It was never likely to be dis- 

 covered, except by the smoke, when the inmate 

 lit a fire. The local shepherd knew it, of course, 

 but Allen had bought his silence, not that there 

 were many neighbours for the shepherd to tattle 

 with. 



Allen had recovered strength " enough by this 

 time to reach his den with little assistance. He 

 made me beat up the white of one of the eggs 

 with a little turpentine, which was probably, under 

 the circumstances,- the best styptic for his malady 

 within his reach. I lit his fire of peats, undressed 

 him, put him to bed, and made him as comfortable 

 as might be in the den which he had chosen. 

 Then I went back to the shepherd's, sent a mes- 

 senger to the nearest doctor, and procured a kind 



