CHAPTER FIVE.
The Adventure of the Spectacled Roadman I sat down on the very crest of the pass and took stock of my position.
Behind me was the road climbing through a long cleft in the hills, which was the upper glen of some notable river.

In front was a flat space of maybe a mile, all pitted with bog-holes and rough with tussocks, and then beyond it the road fell steeply down another glen to a plain whose blue dimness melted into the distance.

To left and right were round-shouldered green hills as smooth as pancakes, but to the south--that is, the left hand--there was a glimpse of high heathery mountains, which I remembered from the map as the big knot of hill which I had chosen for my sanctuary.

I was on the central boss of a huge upland country, and could see everything moving for miles.

In the meadows below the road half a mile back a cottage smoked, but it was the only sign of human life.