..
just about mid-day a big car stole down the hill, glided past and
drew up a hundred yards beyond. Its three occupants descended as
if to stretch their legs, and sauntered towards me.
Two of the men I had seen before from the window of the
Galloway inn--one lean, sharp, and dark, the other comfortable
and smiling. The third had the look of a countryman--a vet,
perhaps, or a small farmer. He was dressed in ill-cut knickerbockers,
and the eye in his head was as bright and wary as a hen's.
'Morning,' said the last. 'That's a fine easy job o' yours.'
I had not looked up on their approach, and now, when accosted,
I slowly and painfully straightened my back, after the manner of
roadmen; spat vigorously, after the manner of the low Scot; and
regarded them steadily before replying. I confronted three pairs of
eyes that missed nothing.
'There's waur jobs and there's better,' I said sententiously. 'I wad
rather hae yours, sittin' a' day on your hinderlands on thae cushions.
It's you and your muckle cawrs that wreck my roads! If we a' had
oor richts, ye sud be made to mend what ye break.'
The bright-eyed man was looking at the newspaper lying beside
Turnbull's bundle.
'I see you get your papers in good time,' he said.
I glanced at it casually. 'Aye, in gude time. Seein' that that paper
cam' out last Setterday I'm just Sax days late.
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