It was now beginning to rain, and by the time I had got through the gap and into the Cawfields quarry yard it was coming down heavily, so I sheltered in the shed of the quarry, which is close by the Haltwhistle Burn, known as the Caw Burn between this point and its source.
At a bend of the stream are the remains of a Roman water-mill, such as is described by Vitruvius, writing early in the first century. Third-century pottery has been found there, and a coin of Trajan; also the remains of the water-shoot. The mill-stones are in Chesters Museum. A little defensive rampart ran across to protect it, from river to river.
We are now also near the Haltwhistle Burn Fort, which is not a mere temporary Roman camp, as was supposed, but a permanent fort, with two branch roads leading from the gates to the Stanegate, which here crosses the burn. The headquarters building, the barracks and other buildings, and the oven were excavated in 1907 by the late Mr. J. P. Gibson and Mr. F. G. Simpson. The fort was dismantled when Æsica, the next fort on the Wall, was built.
Burnhead farm-house is next passed, standing on the site of the Wall. The line of the Wall has verged to the north-west. The Wall-ditch is our guide.
North of the Wall here there is a large Roman temporary camp, 9 acres in extent, with rounded corners, as is usual, and a short ditch across the gateway-opening, the earth out of the ditch being thrown up into a mound called a "traverse," to lie across the opening and hinder an attack.
It is worth visiting as we pass.
The rain had quite stopped; and, as I pushed on, I noted the traces of the building crossing the line of the Wall which was formerly thought to be a mile-castle. However, only a few yards away a real turret has been found. Shortly after, the Wall began to be in better condition. Two or three courses of facing-stones were in place on the south face for some distance.
Just here a stoat, carrying some sort of gruesome carcase, passed me, and disappeared into a loosely constructed part of the Wall. It ran up and down inside the Wall, furious with fright, making a noise like the clucking of an angry hen, and glaring at me through chinks between the stones. I fancy it had a young chicken.
