a craze for poetry, and a capacious memory for it. I forgot how we
drifted into the subject, but I remember he quoted some queer
haunting stuff which he said was Swinburne, and verses by people I
had heard of from Letchford at Biggleswick. Then he saw by my
silence that he had gone too far, and fell back into the jargon of the
West. He wanted to know about my plans, and we went down into
the cabin and had a look at the map. I explained my route, up
Morvern and round the head of Lochiel, and back to Oban by the
east side of Loch Linnhe.

'Got you,' he said. 'You've a hell of a walk before you. That bug
never bit me, and I guess I'm not envying you any. And after that,
Mr Brand?'

'Back to Glasgow to do some work for the cause,' I said lightly.
'Just so,' he said with a grin. 'It's a great life if you
don't weaken.'

We steamed out of the bay next morning at dawn, and about
nine o'clock I got on shore at a little place called Lochaline. My kit
was all on my person, and my waterproof's pockets were stuffed
with chocolates and biscuits I had bought in Oban. The captain
was discouraging. 'Ye'll get your bellyful o' Hieland hills, Mr
Brand, afore ye win round the loch head. Ye'll be wishin' yerself
back on the _Tobermory.' But Gresson speeded me joyfully on my
way, and said he wished he were coming with me. He even
accompanied me the first hundred yards, and waved his hat after me
till I was round the turn of the road.

The first stage in that journey was pure delight. I was thankful to