And no wonder, they would add, for the two men had only stolen fourpence between them.
For about two miles the road climbs upwards, a long hot walk in summer time.

You reach the summit at a place where four ways meet, beside the toll of Fairmilehead.

The spot is breezy and agreeable both in name and aspect.

The hills are close by across a valley: Kirk Yetton, with its long, upright scars visible as far as Fife, and Allermuir the tallest on this side with wood and tilled field running high upon their borders, and haunches all moulded into innumerable glens and shelvings and variegated with heather and fern.

The air comes briskly and sweetly off the hills, pure from the elevation and rustically scented by the upland plants; and even at the toll, you may hear the curlew calling on its mate.