The Argosy — page 212: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Up on the Moor. 195 doth! Andso both Squire and young Squire knowth, and takes their little rest like Christens. But they furriners be puir wheesht sort o’ bodies—maze as a sheep, the half o’’em! Lit un go, maister ; he’m big enough to take care o’ hizzel’; and have a bit more pasty in pace, do’ee now!” So the ‘‘ furriner” was left to pursue his prey in solitude. On, and still on, flapped that heron before him; now alighting, till he was almost tempted to risk a long shot, then slowly rising and sailing away out of sight. Nearly, but never quite. The bird might have been an evil spirit luring the pursuer to destruction, so perti- naciously did it contrive to keep alive the excitement of the chase. And Mr. Fairburn was not only a keen sportsman but an obstinate Scotchman who never knew when he was beaten. ‘Time and dis- tance alike faded from his thoughts in the ardour of the pursuit, until he was at length recalled to a sense of the situation by finding his further progress checked by a little river which wound its way along the bottom of a steep ravine, and, standing on the edge of the cliff, had the mortification to watch the heron flap slowly away into the blue distance. ‘Then, with a hasty ejaculation, Aleck turned away and took out his watch. ‘By Jove! nearly four o’clock, and I promised to be back in half an hour! A nice sort of fellow they’ll be thinking me if they have waited there all this time. Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to make the best speed back again. It’s east for about an hour and then a bit south, I know.” No misgiving as to the correctness of this conclusion entered Mr. Fairburn’s head till after nearly an hour’s sharp walking. ‘Then an uncomfortable suspicion that the great tor before him was strangely unfamiliar in aspect gradually forced its way to the front. Just at the same time the wind suddenly shifted to the west, and before the question of the tor’s identity could be settled the whole horizon had vanished from the wanderer’s sight, and a dense, dark fog advanced over the moor with giant strides, till it completely enveloped him in its chill embrace. To attempt to advance in the sudden darkness seemed folly, for pitfalls abounded on every side; and even Aleck Fairburn’s im- petuosity was so far quenched that he sat himself down on a great block of grey granite to await the course of events. A quarter of an hour—half an hour—an hour went by thus, and still no hint of the cold veil being lifted. Then Celtic impatience could no longer be controlled. ‘ Bog-holes and quarries be hanged! I can’t sit here all night,” exclaimed Aleck, as he rose from his hard seat, his limbs already chilled and stiff. ‘‘ There must surely be some sort of shelter to be found, even in this forsaken end of the earth, if one does but look carefully enough for it. At any rate, I can’t stand //zs any longer.” CoOnniclboooks (CO) im