B. M. Bower

“ Abington replied, his voice once more calm and slightly ironic, as if he still doubted Bill's sincerity. “A man could spend a lifetime in this country without exhausting its archæological possibilities.” ”

“ Remember that with good glasses a man could read the expression on your face, read your lips, too, if he's had any training.”
At the first sentence Bill's face had hardened. “You don't have to preach caution to a man that's been on the dodge long as I have,” he muttered bitterly, under cover of lighting a cigarette. “Shoot. What d'you think—that it's an officer, maybe?”
“I'm not thinking past the field glasses that I believe are focused on us,” Abington parried, rising and standing so that his back was to the ridge while he held up his watch before Bill's face. ”

“ Yet in spite of all his skill, all the careful attention to details which his scientific training had made second nature, he had failed to discover the slightest evidence of a human agency at work against them. Not a sign, not a track, save those enormous sheep tracks leaving the vicinity of the spring and going off up a narrow ravine in great strides which made it hopeless to think of overtaking it ”