"I do not know about that," Roderick said, discreetly; perhaps he knew
that his opinions about prehistoric man were not of great value.
But what Lionel discovered was that talking in no wise interfered with
the tremendous pace of the forester; and he was just on the point of
begging for a respite from this intolerable exertion when a change in
their direction caused both Roderick and the gillie to proceed more
circumspectly: they were now coming in view of the Corrie-nam-Miseag,
and they had to approach with care, slinking along through hollows and
behind mounds and rocks.
By this time, it must be confessed, Lionel was thoroughly dead-beat: he
was wet through, icily cold, and miserable to the verge of despair. The
afternoon was well advanced; they had seen no sign of a stag anywhere;
the gloomy evening threatened to bring darkness on prematurely; and but
for very shame's sake, he would have entreated them to abandon this
fruitless enterprise, and set out for the far-off region of warmth and
reasonable comfort and dry clothes. And yet when Roderick, having
crawled up to the top of a small height, suddenly and eagerly signalled
for Lionel to follow him, all this hopeless lassitude was instantly
forgotten.
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