"They say, sir, they're up to mischief to-day—going to upset the speech-making. I don't envy them if they does!"
The note in his voice spurred McTaggart's fears.
"A rough lot about here?"
"There'll be murder done," said the man grimly. "They don't stop at much when they're roused."
"Are we nearly there?"
The chauffeur nodded. "In five minutes. Just over the rise and down to the valley. The meeting's held on the football ground in Cluar itself. I passed it as I came along. When we get there, sir, I'd best drop you, a bit before, and then run by, turn and come back and wait for you at the foot of the hill, if that will do?"
"Sounds all right—keep the engine going. I shan't be long if I can help it." He swallowed down his anxiety as they started to mount the incline.
Up and up ... Then, with a sense of open space 'neath the roof of heaven, a panorama spread before them like a vast sea of green and gray.
The swelling curves of the mighty Earth, patched with woods and blackened crags, rolled up in giant waves that broke on the sky line, blurred with heat.
Purple mountains, silvery vales; and above, like a scroll of parchment drawn to an endless length across the world and worked on by some long-dead monk in azure and gold illumination, the veil of the sky was stretched, superb, shutting out the face of God.