We fetched several yards of wire from the fence in Ardverikie Forest and cut it into lengths of a foot. I looped eight of these pieces of wire through the staples on the up side of the cave, and, passing the ends of the wires round one side of the hammock, twisted them until they were safe from coming loose, and all were of the same length. Thereafter I bent eight other wires to the shape of the sneck of a farm gate. The loop ends encircled the opposite side of the hammock-frame from that I had already fixed while the right-angled ends engaged with staples in the rafters and cross-pieces on the lower side of the cave. A few staples hammered into the roof beam held the hammock against the wall while it was tilted up and not in use. We regarded our work in silence.

‘We’ll be above the draught to the chimney too!’ Terry exclaimed. ‘What are we going to do next, Hugh?’

It was darkling and I was tired with walking and working. ‘Enjoy the first night’s comfortable sleep we’ve had since we came here,’ I told her.

‘We need a mantelpiece—we need chairs and a table—oh, thousands of things,’ she said. ‘I’m sleepy too. Let down the hammock, boy. I’m tired to death, oh so sleepy. Clever, clever Hugh.’

10 JUNE

WHEN I WAKENED this morning I half expected to see fresh snow on the tops. I think I should have been glad of snow, anything to break the monotony of this rain-swept week. The day was cold enough for winter.

‘Still raining, Hugh?’ Terry asked from amongst the blankets.

‘Oh get up and see for yourself,’ I answered in a rage.

‘Still raining then,’ she told herself with a sigh. ‘Still pelting rain.’

‘I wouldn’t care if it did pelt,’ I went on savagely. ‘It’s this cold drizzle that gets on my nerves.’

‘Are you coming back to bed?’ she inquired.,

‘What’s the use of that?’ I demanded. ‘What’s the use of anything. Damn these kindlings, won’t they ever catch! There’s not a dry peat nor a dry stick—I’m fed up! fed up! fed up!’

‘Poor boy,’ she murmured.

‘Don’t “Poor boy!” me!’ I raged. ‘Get up and see if you can make this fire burn. How do you expect me to move with that filthy hammock right across the place?’

She sat up and gazed at me with round sleepy eyes, and passed her hand abstractedly through her hair.

‘Are you in a rage with me, Hugh?’ she asked.

‘No I’m not,’ I retorted. ‘Why should I be in a rage with you?—I don’t know what I am—oh, can’t you leave me alone and not bother me?’