It was almost dark when at last we crawled into Muirtown station and disgorged our load of hot and weary soldiery.
I bade an ostentatious farewell to Linklater.

'Very pleased to have met you.

I'll see you later on the Edinburgh train.

I'm for a walk to stretch my legs, and a bite o' supper.' I was very determined that the ten-thirty for the south should leave without me.
My notion was to get a bed and a meal in some secluded inn, and walk out next morning and pick up a slow train down the line.

Linklater had disappeared towards the guard's van to find his luggage, and the soldiers were sitting on their packs with that air of being utterly and finally lost and neglected which characterizes the British fighting-man on a journey.