CHAPTER X

WINE AND WEAKNESS


Sporting old parson who knows how to swear?" laughed Rattray.
"Never saw him in my life before; wondered who the deuce he was."

"Really?" said I. "He professed to know something of you."

"Against me, you mean? My dear Cole, don't trouble to perjure
yourself. I don't mind, believe me. They're easily shocked, these
country clergy, and no doubt I'm a bugbear to 'em. Yet, I could
have sworn I'd never seen this one before. Let's have another look."

We were walking away together. We turned on the top of the bank.
And there the old clergyman was planted on the moorside, and watching
us intently from under his hollowed hands.

"Well, I'm hanged!" exclaimed Rattray, as the hands fell and their
owner beat a hasty retreat. My companion said no more; indeed, for
some minutes we pursued our way in silence. And I thought that it
was with an effort that he broke into sudden inquiries concerning
my journey and my comfort at the cottage.

This gave me an opportunity of thanking him for his little