clear--horribly clear they were--eyes that simply stared,
neither showing accusation nor denunciation; but there they were at
every tuft of yellow grass, behind every moss-hag, and staring like
pools of clear silent death, which struck horror to his heart. He
bounded sideways as a partridge on whirring wing flew away at his
approach, and almost dropped dead with fright as a muircock, with loud
protesting voice, seemed to scream: "'way back! 'way back! 'way back!"
and then, drawing out into a low grumbling command, as it came to earth
a few hundred yards away, still muttering its orders to him, as he
momentarily stood to recover from his fright.

The whinny of a horse upon the hillside, the low cry of a young cow, the
bleat of a sheep, all added to his feeling of dread, until the sweat
streamed down his body, as he swung along the moor.

At last he came to a little village, about six miles from Lowwood, and,
entering the inn, he called for a supply of whisky.

"It's kind o' cauld the day," the landlady said in an affable way, as he
stepped into the bar.

"Warm enough where I have been," he replied bluntly. "Gie's something to
drink in whusky!"

"So it wad seem," she said in reply, noting his beaded forehead, as he
wiped it with a colored handkerchief.

"You've surely been gey hard ca'd wherever you hae been," and there was
a note of curiosity in her voice.

"I want a drink," he broke in abruptly, "an' it doesna matter a damn to
you whether I hae been hard ca'd or no'. You're surely hellish keen to
hae news. Dis a' your customers get the Catechism when they come in
here?" he queried. "If they do, I may as well tell you to begin with,
that I came in for whusky, an' no' to staun' an examination."

She saw at once that he resented her leisurely way and her attempt at
affability, and she hastened to apologize.

"Look dam'd sharp," he growled, as she attended to his order. "I want
whusky and plenty o' it."

"You are in an unco' hurry," she replied, getting nettled, as she filled
a glass. "It doesna' do to be so snottery as a' that."

"Well, dammit, look alive. I'm dying for a drink. Bring in a bottle," as
she placed a glass before him filled with whisky, "an' tak' the price o'
your dam'd poison aff that!" and he flung down a sovereign upon the
table.

"Look here," said the landlady, "I'll tak' nane o' your snash, so mind
that. If folk come in here to be served, they've got to be ceevil."

"Oh, there's nae harm