r, and
placed his hand upon his waistcoat.

"Time, Dick?" he murmured, pulling out his watch. "I knew it. Commend
me to nature. It's the best time-keeper, after all--needs no
regulating."

He was wrong, as was frequently the case, but it mattered little, for
there was no one to contradict him.

"Let me see," he muttered, taking off his basket, and drawing a
newspaper parcel from the pocket of his coat--in which operation he was
induced by memory to make a last futile attempt to see himself
behind--"what have they put up for me?"

The parcel, when opened, disclosed a tempting pile of meat sandwiches.
The old gentleman spread them out on a flattish boulder, which served as
an admirable table.

Having leaned his rod against a tree, he emptied the basket on a grassy
spot, and arranged the silver bars in a row. Then he sat down on his
basket beside the table, and gave himself up to food and contemplation.

"A goodly row," he muttered, as well as the ham sandwich would let him.
"Not a bad beginning; and such a splendid dish. There's comfort in
that, for I hate useless work of any kind. A sort of an illustration,
this, of the fitness of things!"

Apparently the peculiar unfitness of simultaneous mastication and speech
struck him, for he paused a few moments, then continued,--"Yes, fitness.
Supplies for the table absolutely needed. Healthy exercise a
consequence. Result, felicity!"

The supplies checking speech again, MacRummle looked around him, with
benignant good-will to man and beast expressed on his countenance.

Craning their necks over a bank, and seeing the old gentleman thus
pleasantly engaged, the two boys sank into the heather, and disappeared
from view as completely as did "Clan Alpine's warriors true," after they
had been shown to Fitz James by Roderick Dhu. Like two sparrows in a
purple nest they proceeded to enjoy themselves.

"Now, Tonal', we will grub," said Junkie. "Why, what's the matter with
you?" he asked, on observing a sudden fall in his companion's
countenance.

"The matter?" repeated the boy. "It iss the crub that's the matter, for
I hev not a crumb with me."

"Now, isn't that awful?" said Junkie, with a hypocritically woeful look.
"We will just have to starve. But there's plenty of water," he added,
in a consoling tone. "Here, Tonal', take this leather cup an' fill it.
Ye can git down to the river by the back o' the bluff without bein'
noticed. See that ye make no noise, n