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 bogholes 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. Otherwise there was only the calling of plovers and the tinkling of little streams.