The Argosy — page 213: what you’re looking at

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

196 Up on the Moor. But it was desperately slow work in the semi-darkness, feeling one’s way cautiously forward over the rough and broken ground, thickly strewn with sharp fragments of granite; and the autumn even- ing was far advanced before Aleck at last found himself near a human habitation—a low, stone hut, which seemed to start out of the ground at his feet, so suddenly it loomed upon him through the fog. The cottage stood quite alone, surrounded by a low stone wall, which enclosed a little bit of land that had been reclaimed from the moor. But no friendly gleam shone out from the small square window to welcome the weary and belated traveller, nor did his loud and con- tinuous knocking elicit any answer from within. Still, inhabited or uninhabited, the hut offered at least better shelter for the night than the cold damp moor could do. So, with one vigorous push from his broad shoulder, Mr. Fairburn presently forced open the low door and stumbled forward into the dark apartment. At first he thought it untenanted. ‘There were embers on the hearth, but not a spark of life in them. He spoke, but no voice answered. When, however, he succeeded in striking a match he observed in the furthest corner what seemed a bundle of clothing, and further enquiry resulted in the discovery of an old woman huddled together in a state of most abject terror. Aleck endeavoured by gentle words to allay the alarm which his forcible entrance had evidently excited, and after some time succeeded with difficulty in inducing her to quit her place of refuge. ‘“T’ve a got nort to give ’ee, sir! nort to give ’ee! If ’ee was to tak’ arl there be in the place, it wouna’ bring ’ee ten shillin’, I sweer. What do ’ee want wi’ a poor old soul like me ?” “Come, guidwife, you don’t really take me for a burglar ?” said Mr. Fairburn, laughing. ‘‘ You know I knocked civilly enough and long enough, too, before I made my way in in this unceremonious fashion. Surely you don’t expect a hungry man, who has lost his way in the fog, to spend the night contentedly out there on the moor while he sees four walls before him for shelter? Just let me have a bit of fire and a little food of any sort you’ve got, and 1'll lie down on the hearth here till morning, and pay you well for your trouble.” The owner of the cottage seemed strangely dismayed by these very modest demands. ‘‘Daun’t ’ee go vur to ax me to do it, zir, now daunt’ee,” she pleaded, earnestly. ‘‘I’ma lone widder-woman; widder Trownson, they carlls me; an’ I’ve a got nort vit vur gentry to set avore ee. Can’t ’ee go on jist a bit varder? It bain’t more’n ite mile or zo down to A , where ’ee might get the best o’ everythin’ to the Blue Boar! And what be ite mile to the like o’ you, zir? ” ‘‘ Not very much, perhaps, guidwife, in the daylight, but a good deal more than I am disposed to undertake just now. Come, make the best of a bad job, there’s a good old creature ; and when you find a bit of gold in your hand to-morrow morning you'll forgive me the ECOMMICOOOKS. CO