Summary

Portrait of John Buchan John Buchan Midwinter (Buchan) — Chapter V. (1923)

The wife at a long table was mixing bowl after bowl of spiced liquors, her face glowing like a moon, and her nose perpetually wrinkled in the task of sniffing odours to detect the moment when the brew was right. The husband placed a red-cushioned chair for Alastair, and played nervously with the strings of his apron. It occurred to the traveller that the man had greeted him as if he had been expected, and at this he wondered.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of John Buchan John Buchan Midwinter (Buchan) — Chapter V. (1923)

The power of the armed over the unarmed was in that moment notably exemplified. There was grumbling, a curse or two, and sullen faces, but no attempt was made to rush that corner where stood an active young man with an ugly sword. The mob swayed and muttered, the gypsy went off on an errand behind the inn, one of the drunkards lurched forward as if to attack and fell prone. A stone or two was thrown, but Alastair showed his pistols, and that form of assault was dropped.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of John Buchan John Buchan Midwinter (Buchan) — Chapter V. (1923)

To judge by his voice he seemed older than the rest.
"Tell us your dreams," he said rudely. "From your talk in your sleep they should have been full of treason. Who may you be, sir?"
Alastair, at sight of a drawer's face round the corner of the tap-room door, called for a bowl of punch.
"Who am I?" he said quietly. "A traveller who has acquired a noble thirst, which he would fain share with other good fellows."
Source: Wikisource

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