__ochterlony. Post Office, Kyle. - Demas will be at his mine
within the week. Strive with him, lest I faint by the _way.

'Ye're unco lavish wi' the words, sir,' was her only comment.

We parted with regret, and there was nearly a row when I tried
to pay for the tea. I was bidden remember her to one David
Tudhole, farmer in Nether Mirecleuch, the next time I passed by Wamphray.

The village was as quiet when I left it as when I had entered. I
took my way up the hill with an easier mind, for I had got off the
telegram, and I hoped I had covered my tracks. My friend the
postmistress would, if questioned, be unlikely to recognize any
South African suspect in the frank and homely traveller who had
spoken with her of Annandale and the_Pilgrim's _Progress.

The soft mulberry gloaming of the west coast was beginning to
fall on the hills. I hoped to put in a dozen miles before dark to the
next village on the map, where I might find quarters. But ere I had
gone far I heard the sound of a motor behind me, and a car slipped
past bearing three men. The driver favoured me with a sharp
glance, and clapped on the brakes. I noted that the two men in the
tonneau were carrying sporting rifles.

' Hi, you, sir,' he cried. 'Come here.' The two rifle-bearers -
solemn gillies - brought their weapons to attention.

'By God,' he said, 'it's the man. What's your name? Keep him
covered, Angus.'