As far as the village the way was straight enough. Elsie and Duncan
skipped along merrily. Presently the sun began to struggle through the
clouds and disperse the haze. The day promised to be fine and warm,
which was certainly a great advantage.
The few straggling houses that formed the village of Dunster were soon
passed, and then arose the first difficulty. The road for some little
distance was direct enough, but at last it came to a sudden termination,
or rather, opened out into a wider space, where there was a dirty pond,
a patch of grass, and two roads: the one to the left, the other to the
right. Right before them, filling up the way they ought to take in order
to carry out Elsie's plan of keeping straight on, stood a tiny crofter's
cottage, surrounded by its meagre crops enclosed within low stone walls.
Beyond it the ground began to rise into hills, and far away in the
distance rose the black-looking peaks of mountains.
Elsie stood still for a few minutes in puzzled thought. "If we begin to
take turnings we are sure to lose our way," she said to herself, in
woeful disappointment at this sudden check; but presently her spirits
revived. "I see it all!" she cried, "Of course, if the road went
straight on, apart from having to go right through the croft, it would
lead us just straight away into the mountains; an' I'd like to know how
we'd ever get over the top of that big one, with the clouds hanging over
it. The road takes you clear away through the glen, of course, and it
runs a bit to the side, no doubt. We'll just keep in the right
direction, an' it'll be right enough. Let us think a minute. Is London
to the right or the left, Duncan? Which think you?"
"It's more on the right side of the map, I think," Duncan replied,
doubtfully.
"Ah! but, you little silly, we're up in Scotland, and we're to walk down
the map. You must just reverse it, to be sure," Elsie replied.
"The map's a funny sort of shape, where it joins on to England," Duncan
muttered. "It seems to run off more sideways like; we ought to twist
about, I'm sure, or else we'll be going straight through the bottom of
Scotland into the sea!"
"Oh, you baby!" Elsie cried, scornfully. "Do you think we couldn't walk
along the edge? I'm not so sure it wouldn't be the best. We should be
certain to know our way then, when once we got to the coast."
"S'pose we was to fall over?" urged Duncan.
"Oh, it is just the best idea of all!" Elsie cried, clapping her hands.
"We'll just find the sea first of all; and won't it be a real bonny
sight, with the ships sailing on it. Then we'll go along till we get
into England, and any one'll tell us the way to London. This turning
seems the most like going straight, so we'll take it."
This knotty point decided, Elsie tripped along with no sort of
misgiving. Duncan was by no means so sure. He had received geography
lessons, in which he had been told how many hundred miles long Scotland
was, and he had a sort of dim suspicion that London must be farther off
than Elsie thought; but he did not feel much uneasiness.
After a while the road became rough and uneven, and at last it turned
sharp round in the wrong direction, but just beyond them the low wall
suddenly ended in a scattered heap of stony fragments, and the grass
stretched fresh and green away to the hills.
"Come on, Duncan!" Elsie cried, dragging him after her on to the grass.
"We'll be seeing the sea from that hill, I'll be bound!"
The hill was farther away than it looked, but they reached it after a
good sharp scamper. "And now we'll just be after eating a bit of
something before we go any farther," Elsie said, dropping down on the
grass, very hot and breathless.
"I s'pose there'll be shops by-and-by," Duncan said, "or a farm, where
we can get a drink of milk."
Elsie was thirsty, but she was not going to be daunted by such a small
inconvenience.
They began hopefully to climb the hill. As they mounted they began to
find it steep and tiring. After ten minutes they stopped short, fairly
out of breath. To her disgust and surprise, Elsie found that the
distance to the top of the hill looked even greater than when they had
been quite down at the bottom of it, and steeper a very great deal.
They rested for a while, catching hold of the tough heather stalks to
prevent them from slipping, then went on again, on and on, with
by-and-by another pause for breath. There was plenty of fun and
excitement in the climb, the only drawback being the weight and
inconvenience of their strong rough boots and Elsie's basket, which,
however, were each of them too useful to be left behind.
At last, however, the children reached the top, and Elsie stood still,
and looked all round in eager hope.
But, alas! the sight that met her view was one of keen disappointment.
The side of the hill descended very steeply into a narrow valley,
through which flowed a small stream. Beyond were hills stretching as far
as she could see, until their tall peaks mingled with the clouds. Just
then the sun disappeared, black shadows crept rapidly over the
mountain-tops, the whole landscape appeared dark, gloomy, and frowning.
Nowhere all around was a sight of any living thing, except a few sheep
perched far up on a steep crag. Presently masses of vapour gathered over
the hills, and began to roll down their sides, hiding first one and then
another. Elsie turned away with a shudder. The cows feeding on the
smooth grass below, the very sight of the road, lonely and deserted
though it was, seemed cheerful indeed, compared with the awful
loneliness of those grim, endless hills.
"It's no use going this way," she said, with a little shiver. "The sea
is farther off than I thought. We should lose ourselves among the hills;
and it's so cold up here, and not a soul to tell us the way, not even a
shepherd. Let's go back."
They began to descend by a circuitous route, for the side was steep
enough to make it a matter for care, and in places the soil was boggy,
and in others the rocky ground had broken and crumbled away, leaving
sharp precipitous edges.
When at last they reached the even space, there was no sign of a road to
be seen. "It must be just over there," Elsie said, in some bewilderment.
"Perhaps there's a bank at the side hiding it."
"We've come down quite a different place to where we went up," said
Duncan, slowly. "D'you think we're lost, Elsie?"
"No, of course not," Elsie replied, confidently. "Come on, Duncan; the
road can't be far off."
Duncan followed without a word. He was beginning to feel a bit tired,
and somehow he could not help giving a thought to the snug kitchen at
home, with the little wooden arm-chair in which he was accustomed to sit
when he was done up with running about. The sight of the cottage would
have been far more welcome to him even than that of the unknown father
they were seeking. But he kept his thoughts to himself.
They found a roadway after a goodish bit of running hither and thither.
Elsie had been wise enough to avoid the hills, for the day had clouded
over and a chill breeze had sprung up. It was dull enough even here, far
worse away among the steeps and hollows.
"I don't think we shall get to London very soon," Duncan ventured to
say, after a while. "There isn't any one to ask the way. Do you think
we've got near the end of Scotland yet?"
"We shan't get to London to-night," Elsie said, with the air of one who
knew all about it. "Of course I knew that all along. We shall have to
get a night's lodging, and go on to-morrow."
"But who'll give it to us?" asked the practical Duncan. "There isn't any
houses."
"Oh, well! we shall come to some," Elsie said.
"Do you think I might take off my boots and stockings? they seem so
heavy like," Duncan asked.
"If you like to carry 'em," Elsie replied shortly. "We'll want 'em when
we get to London. Hark! I can hear a cart coming."
Yes, sure enough there was a sound of wheels, and presently there came
into sight a man driving a small cart, drawn by a miserable,
starved-looking horse, that shambled along with its head held down as if
ready to drop. The cart was a dilapidated-looking affair, and the man
who drove was well in keeping with his vehicle. He was clad in tattered
garments, surmounted by an old sack, fastened together round his
shoulders with a wooden skewer. His hair was coarse and matted, looking
as if a comb had never made acquaintance with it, his face unmistakably
emaciated, in spite of the dark hue it wore from constant exposure.
As he gradually overtook them, Elsie stood by the roadside, and beckoned
to him to stop.
"How far are we from the houses?" she asked.
The man scratched his head and stared for a few seconds, then he
replied, "Don't know of none this side o' Killochrie."
"How far is Killochrie?" Elsie asked.
"Weel, seven miles and a bittock--so--more or less."
Elsie stood still in perplexity. A Scottish mile is reckoned to be two
English ones, and the bittock might mean anything--another Scottish mile
or two, as the case might be. The prospect was not encouraging.
"Isn't there any house at all?" Elsie asked.
"Well, there's not to say a house--a croft or two an' a cottage. Where
would you be going?"
"Oh, to Killochrie, that's just where!" Elsie answered very quickly,
with a glance at Duncan.
"Ah, weel!" the man replied, waiting in stock silence for some one else
to speak.
"Can you tell us the time?" Elsie asked.
"It might be five, or getting on to six, thereabouts," the man replied.
So late, and a matter of fifteen miles about to the nearest
resting-place! What was to be done?
"Are you going to Killochrie?" Elsie asked suddenly.
"Weel, noa, not that--along the road."
"Would you mind our getting into the cart?"
The man scratched his head again, and looked at her in silence. Elsie
began to think he was a little daft. Presently he replied, "You maun sit
on it, if you like."
"On what?" Elsie asked sharply.
"The fish," the man replied.
Elsie and Duncan had both noticed a strange odour, which Elsie
attributed to a stagnant pool of water near which they were standing.
She now peered over the side of the cart, which was more like a lidless
box on wheels than anything else, and she perceived that it was full of
fish. The man occupied the only available sitting-place in front. What
was to be done? Elsie looked all along the road. There was no sign of
any other vehicle, not even a person to be seen. Their choice plainly
lay between walking the whole distance or riding in the cart.
"We are very tired," Elsie said, dubiously. "Shall we get in, Duncan?"
Oh, how the vision of home rose up before Duncan's longing eyes! Mother
would be at home now, just sitting down to tea, perhaps.
"If you'd like to," he said, without much interest.
"Ye might take the sack," the man said good-naturedly, unskewering it,
and laying it down on top of the mass the cart contained. It was really
a kind action, for Elsie noticed that the rags he wore had nothing of
warmth about them, and the air was already tolerably sharp and keen.
The children scrambled in on the top of the sack, and the man bent his
energies to starting his old horse once more on his shambling trot.
When the children had got a little bit accustomed to the cart Elsie
opened her basket to get some bread, for they were ravenously hungry.
Just then the man turned round; his eye lighted with a hungry, almost
wolfish, glance on the sweet white bread and firm yellow cheese. "Will
you have some?" Elsie asked, almost in fear, for he looked so fierce.
In reply he stretched out his hand, greedily seized the remaining
portion of their loaf which Elsie was just about to divide, and without
a word of apology, devoured it like a hungry animal.