“I have been in Carlisle once,” said the boy. “It’s a fine town, with bonnie sights; but that was not yesterday. I spend all my time with the sheep and it is rarely that I get a chance for such things. No, it’s not much pleasure that they let come my way,” he added dolefully.
Ian looked at the boy, who had a fine face and was well proportioned in length of limbs and figure, but thin and ill nourished, with hollow cheeks and angular shoulders. “I am afraid they do not feed you over well,” he remarked.
“Not they,” said the lad,—“I get my brose in the morning and none too much of that and then generally I get some more brose in the evening.”
“Do you get nothing all day?” said Ian.
“Why, no,” he replied.
“Would you like something to eat now?”
The boy’s eyes lit up as Ian undid his wallet. “Surely,” he said.
Ian gave him all that the wallet contained and smiled with pleasure as he watched the boy ravenously devour every morsel. It was the first glow of satisfaction that Ian had had since he left Holwick.
As the boy munched away Ian thought he might get what information he could; at least he would know how much more road there was before him, which was advisable now that he had nothing whatever left to eat.