They could see the twisted horn of Pencrist and the round Maiden Paps on their right hand, and on their left bare Carlin Tooth on the outermost edge of Carter Bar; they were soon out upon the bare moorlands that stretch away to the water of Tyne on the one side and to the waters of Liddle on the other.
As they slowly ascended by the skirts of Peel Fell Meg broke the silence again.
'Ye arena marrit a'ready?' she inquired, as a sudden suspicion assailed her.
'No fears,' retorted Si with conviction.
'Weel, ye are the noo,' said Meg to herself, slightly increasing her hold on her man.
'Then wha is 't that fends for ye?' she asked further.
'I hae an old wife—the shepherd's—that bides with me,' replied Si.
'She'll no' fend for ye the way I can,' returned Meg, 'for I can bake an' mak ye sowans, scones, brose, kail o' all kinds, an' parritch.'
'I'd be fain o' some here and now,' replied Si,[3] 'for ye are not very hospitable in Hawick. A sup sour ale's all I've had since I took the fell yestreen.'
'Puir laddie!' said Meg sympathetically. 'There was sic an unco carfuffle that I had clean forgot the vivers.' Then, preparing to descend from the pillion, she proposed that they should get down and walk so as to ease the mare up the fell.