He will not pull them for anybody--only when he is in a good
humour and for his cronies in the back parlour. To-night, perchance, we
shall see his eyes roll as he roars out the chorus of "D'ye ken John Peel?"
Yes, Wastdale shall be to-night's halt. And so over Black Sail, and down
the rough mountain side to the inn whose white-washed walls hail us from
afar out of the gathering shadows of the valley.
To-morrow? Well, to-morrow shall be as to-day. We will shoulder our
rucksacks early, and be early on the mountains, for the first maxim in
going a journey is the early start. Have the whip-hand of the day, and then
you may loiter as you choose. If it is hot, you may bathe in the chill
waters of those tarns that lie bare to the eye of heaven in the hollows of
the hills--tarns with names of beauty and waters of such crystal purity as
Killarney knows not. And at night we will come through the clouds down the
wild course of Rosset Ghyll and sup and sleep in the hotel hard by Dungeon
Ghyll, or, perchance, having the day well in hand, we will push on by Blea
Tarn and Yewdale to Coniston, or by Easedale Tarn to Grasmere, and so to
the Swan at the foot of Dunmail Raise.
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