—From A Song of the Road.
In the morning I was afoot before any of my mates, full of impatience, and looking forward eagerly to the start.
"Wake up, Moleskin!" I cried, as I bent over my mate, where he lay snoring loudly in the bed; "it is time to be away."
"It's not time yet, for I'm still sleepy," said Moleskin drowsily. "Slow and easy goes far in a day," he added, and fell asleep again. I turned my attention to Carroty.
"Get up, Carroty!" I shouted. "It's time that we were out on our journey."
"What journey?" grumbled Carroty, propping himself up on his elbow in the bed.
"To Kinlochleven," I reminded him.
"I never heard of it."
"You said that you would go this morning," I informed him. "You said so last night when you were drunk."
"Well, if I said so, it must be so," said the red-haired one, and slipped out of the blankets. Moleskin rose also, and as a proof of the bond between us, we cooked our food in common on the hot-plate, and at ten minutes to ten by the town clock we set out on the long road leading to Kinlochleven. Our worldly wealth amounted to elevenpence, and the distance to which we had set our faces was every inch, as the road turned, of one hundred miles, or a six days' tramp according to the computation of my two mates. The pace of the road is not a sharp one. "Slow and easy goes far in a day," is a saying amongst us, and it sums up the whole philosophy of the long journey. Besides our few pence, each man possessed a pipe, a knife, and a box for holding matches. The latter, being made of tin, was very useful for keeping the matches dry when the rain soaked the clothing. In addition, each man carried, tied to his belt, a tin can which would always come in handy for making tea, cooking eggs, or drinking water from a wayside well.