"It might be five, or getting on to six, thereabouts," the man replied.
So late, and a matter of fifteen miles about to the nearest resting-place! What was to be done?
"Are you going to Killochrie?" Elsie asked suddenly.
"Weel, noa, not that—along the road."
"Would you mind our getting into the cart?"
The man scratched his head again, and looked at her in silence. Elsie began to think he was a little daft. Presently he replied, "You maun sit on it, if you like."
"On what?" Elsie asked sharply.
"The fish," the man replied.
Elsie and Duncan had both noticed a strange odour, which Elsie attributed to a stagnant pool of water near which they were standing. She now peered over the side of the cart, which was more like a lidless box on wheels than anything else, and she perceived that it was full of fish. The man occupied the only available sitting-place in front. What was to be done? Elsie looked all along the road. There was no sign of any other vehicle, not even a person to be seen. Their choice plainly lay between walking the whole distance or riding in the cart.
"We are very tired," Elsie said, dubiously. "Shall we get in, Duncan?"