All the party looked out across the moor where the white road departed.

I hoped they were going to take up my tracks there.
As we moved away from that station my companion woke up.

He fixed me with a wandering glance, kicked his dog viciously, and inquired where he was.

Clearly he was very drunk.
'That's what comes o' bein' a teetotaller,' he observed in bitter regret.
I expressed my surprise that in him I should have met a blue-ribbon stalwart.
'Ay, but I'm a strong teetotaller,' he said pugnaciously.

'I took the pledge last Martinmas, and I havena touched a drop o' whisky sinsyne.
Not even at Hogmanay, though I was sair temptit.' He swung his heels up on the seat, and burrowed a frowsy head into the cushions.
'And that's a' I get,' he moaned.