With fresh wonder she scrambled on till the trees began to grow sparser and an upland valley opened in view. Now the burn was quiet, running in long shining shallows and falling over little rocks into deep brown pools where the trout darted. On either side rose the gates of the valley—two craggy knolls each with a few trees on its face. Beyond was a green lawnlike place with a great confusion of blue mountains hemmed around its head. Here, if anywhere, primeval peace had found its dwelling, and Alice, her eyes bright with pleasure, sat on a green knoll, too rapt with the sight for word or movement.
Then very slowly, like an epicure lingering at a feast, she walked up the banks of the burn, now high above a trough of rock, now down in a green winding hollow. Suddenly she came on the spirits of the place in the shape of two boys down on their faces groping among the stones of a pool.
One was very small and tattered, one about sixteen; both were barefoot and both were wet and excited. “Tam, ye stot, ye’ve let the muckle yin aff again,” groaned the smaller. “Oh, be canny, man! If we grip him it’ll be the biggest trout that the laird will have in his basket.” The elder boy, who was bearing the heat and burden of the work, could only groan “Heather!” at intervals. It seemed to be his one exclamation.
Now it happened that the two ragamuffins lifted their eyes and saw to their amazement a girl walking on the bank above them, a girl who smiled comrade-like on them and seemed in no way surprised. They propped themselves on their elbows and stared. “Heather!” they ejaculated in one breath. Then they, too, grinned broadly, for it was impossible to resist so good-humoured an intruder. She held her head high and walked like a queen, till a turn of the water hid her. “It’s a wumman,” gasped the smaller boy. “And she’s terrible bonny,” commented the more critical brother. Then the two fell again to the quest of the great trout.
Meanwhile the girl pursued her way till she came to a fall where the bank needed warier climbing. As she reached the top a little flushed and panting, she became conscious that the upland valley was not without inhabitants. For, not six paces off, stood a man’s figure, his back turned towards her, and his mind apparently set on mending a piece of tackle.
She stood for a moment hesitating. How could she pass without being seen? The man was blissfully unconscious of her presence, and as he worked he whistled Schubert’s “Wohin,” and whistled it very badly. Then he fell to apostrophizing his tackle, and then he grew irritable. “Somebody come and keep this thing taut,” he cried. “Tam, Jock! where on earth are you?”
The thing in question was lying at Alice’s feet in wavy coils.
“Jock, you fool, where are you?” cried the man, but he never looked round and went on biting and tying. Then an impulse took the girl and she picked up the line. “That’s right,” cried the man, “pull it as tight as you can,” and Alice tugged heroically at the waterproof silk. She felt horribly nervous, and was conscious that she must look a very flushed and untidy young barbarian. Many times she wanted to drop it and run away, but the thought of the menaces against the absent Jock and of her swift discovery deterred her. When he was done with her help he might go on working and never look round. Then she would escape unnoticed down the burn.
But no such luck befell her. With a satisfied tug he pronounced the thing finished and wheeled round to regard his associates. “Now, you young wretches—” and the words froze on his lips, for in the place of two tatterdemalion boys he saw a young girl holding his line limply and smiling with much nervousness.
“Oh,” he cried, and then became dumb and confused. He was shy and unhappy with women, save the few whom he had known from childhood. The girl was no better. She had blushed deeply, and was now minutely scanning the stones in the burn. Then she raised her eyes, met his, and the difficulty was solved by both falling into fits of deep laughter. She was the first to speak.