was not so sure that it was funny.

On the third day afterwards, I was going up Corriemuir by the
sheep-track, when who should I see striding down but Jim himself.
But he was a different man from the big, kindly fellow who had supped
his porridge with us the other morning. He had no collar nor tie, his
vest was open, his hair matted, and his face mottled, like a man who has
drunk heavily overnight. He carried an ash stick, and he slashed at the
whin-bushes on either side of the path.

"Why, Jim!" said I.

But he looked at me in the way that I had often seen at school when the
devil was strong in him, and when he knew that he was in the wrong, and
yet set his will to brazen it out. Not a word did he say, but he
brushed past me on the narrow path and swaggered on, still brandishing
his ash-plant and cutting at the bushes.

Ah well, I was not angry with him. I was sorry, very sorry, and that
was all. Of course I was not so blind but that I could see how the
matter stood. He was in love with Edie, and he could not bear to think
that I should have her. Poor devil, how could he help it? Maybe I
should have been the same. There was a time when I should have wondered
that a girl could have turned a strong man's head like that, but I knew
more about it now.

For a fortnight I saw nothing of Jim Horscroft, and then came the
Thursday which was to change the whole current of my life.

I had woke early that day, and with a little thrill of joy which is a