Then I sang softly—
'As I went down the water side
None but my foe to be my guide.'
Hereat his eyes flashed, and he responded with extended fist:
'I lighted down, my sword did draw—
I hackit him in pieces sma'.'
Then turning swiftly upon me he said sternly:
'You mustn't quote the Border Ballads to me; I have them in my blood.'
He looked so strange that at once I changed the conversation and suggested that we should ascend Wild Boar's Fell that afternoon, and return for supper at the inn where we proposed stopping the night.
He assented, and we had a fine climb and a glorious view over the West Borderland; we could see Skiddaw and Helvellyn to the north-west, and even thought we saw Criffel looming in the haze beyond Solway; to the east the great hills beside Crossfell lifted their great rampire and gave a sense of security to the green vale below.
Reinvigorated by our walk we returned in good heart to the inn.
After supper I thought a pipe and Stevenson's essay on 'A Walking Tour' were appropriate to my mood, but Maxwell said he was for a stroll in the moonlight, and went out.