The Bog-Trotter Dusk was falling when I once more passed
the ruined castle, crossed the footbridge and splashed back to the car, From a sky the colour of old armour snow-flakes continued their leisurely but purposeful descent. Small chunks of frozen water hung on the coats of the spaniel and the Labrador; they hung also•on my stockings above the mulled ice in my shoes. The dogs jumped into the straw on the back seat of the car and began to lick themselves and then, quite quickly, to steam. I took the snipe out of my pocket, put them in the game-bag, sat in the driving seat, started' the engine and remembered suddenly that there was a pint of hot coffee in the car. I found the thermos, took a swig, poured the rest of the coffee into my shoes and went on my way, warmed by the sort of glow which suffuses the feckless when they unexpectedly do something practical STRIX
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