"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.
When we got clear of the town Moleskin opened his shirt front and allowed the wind to play coolly against his hairy chest.
"Man alive!" he exclaimed, "this wind runs over a fellow's chest like the hands of a soncy wench!" Then he spoke of our journey. Carroty was silent; he was a morbid fellow who had little to say, except when drunk, and as for myself I was busy with my thoughts, and eager to tramp on at a quicker pace.
"We'll separate here, and each must go alone and pick up what he can lay his hands on," said Moleskin. "As I'm an old dog on the road, far more knowing than a torch-headed boozer or young mongrel, I'll go ahead and lead the way. Whenever I manage to bum a bit of tucker from a house, I'll put a white cross on the gatepost; and both of you can try your luck after me at the same place. If you hear a hen making a noise in a bunch of brambles, just look about there and see if you can pick up an egg or two. It would be sort of natural for you, Carroty, to talk about your wife and young brats, when speaking to the woman of a house. You look miserable enough to have been married more than once. You're good lookin', Flynn; just put on your blarney to the young wenches and maybe they'll be good for the price of a drink for three. We'll sit for a bite at the Ferry Inn, and that is a good six miles of country from our feet."