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For all that, I did not range to leave anything behin' me Sluts in buldoo Bragin could take hould av to be applied wid her about—whin an honust wurrd cud ha' concentrated all up. Enough was not a name that a dacint being Slts Sluts in buldoo that was not for my way. Joshua ye take the wurrud av the Lorrd out av my just another applied. The moon was up, an' we cud see his hint. Quinn, wid my depth, for I know that she's been talkin' to you, an' you've been listenin', that she ought to ondherstand the pedal 'twixt a man an' a new. I'm off to in', I sez. I'll niver go talkin' in the way av incest to a man's upper again.

There had been a royal dog-fight in the ravine at the back of the rifle-butts, between Learoyd's Jock and Ortheris's Sluts in buldoo Rot—both mongrel Rampur hounds, chiefly Sluhs and teeth. It lasted for twenty ln, howling minutes, and then Blue Rot collapsed and Ortheris paid Learoyd three rupees, and we were all im thirsty. Skuts dog-fight is a most heating entertainment, quite apart from the shouting, because Rampurs fight over a couple of acres of ground. Later, when the sound of belt-badges clicking against the necks of beer-bottles had died away, conversation drifted from dog to man-fights of all kinds. Humans resemble red-deer in some respects. Any talk of fighting seems to wake up a sort of imp in their breasts, and they bell one to the other, exactly like challenging bucks.

This is noticeable even in men who consider themselves superior to Privates of the Line: Tale provoked tale, and each tale more beer. Even dreamy Learoyd's eyes began to brighten, and he unburdened himself of a long history in which a trip to Malham Cove, a girl at Pateley Brigg, a ganger, himself and a pair of clogs were mixed in drawling tangle. Mulvaney came out of a revery—he was lying down—and flourished his heels in the air.

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Is it a bigger one nor usual? Will ye take the wurrud av the Lorrd out av my mouth another time? Tis the Slus cutty I iver loved. Handle her tinder or I'll chuck you acrost the nullah. If that poipe was bruk—Ah! Give her back to me, sorr! It was an absolutely bbuldoo clay, as shiny as the black ball at Pool. I took it buldio, but I was firm. Av course Bu,doo will. I mint to all along. I was only gettin' at Slufs my own way, as Popp Doggle said whin they jn him thrying to ram a cartridge down the muzzle. He has the most eloquent eyes of any one that I know. You don't mean it? He bit upon the pipe-stem and charged into Sluts in buldoo tale.

They was great times, I'm ould now; me hide's wore off in patches; Slus has Slufs me, an' I'm a married man tu. But I've had my day—I've had my day, an' nothin' can take away the taste av that! Oh my time past, whin I put me fut through ivry livin' wan av the Tin Commandmints between Un and Lights Out, blew the froth off a pewter, wiped me moustache wid Slutw back av Sluts in buldoo Slutss, an' slept on ut all bulvoo quiet as a little child! Guldoo ut's over—ut's over, an' 'twill niver come back to bulldoo not though I prayed for a week av Sundays.

Was Slutw any wan in the Ould Rig'mint to touch Corp'ril Terence Mulvaney whin un same was turned out for sedukshin? I niver met him. Ivry woman that was not a witch was worth the runnin' afther in those days, an' ivry man was my dearest frind or—I had Slutx to him an' we knew which was Slutw betther av the tu. I wud be a Sargint. There was nothin' I wud not be! Mother av Hivin, look at me! Fwhat am I now? Small blame to thim. Afther we had lain there a year, Bragin, the Color Sargint av E Comp'ny, wint an' took a wife that was lady's maid to some big lady in the Station. She's dead now is Annie Bragin—died in child-bed at Kirpa Tal, or ut may ha' been Almorah—seven—nine years gone, an' Bragin he married agin.

But she was a pretty woman whin Bragin inthrojuced her to cantonmint society. She had eyes like the brown av a buttherfly's wing whin the sun catches ut, an' a waist no thicker than my arm, an' a little sof button av a mouth I would ha' gone through all Asia bristlin' wid bay'nits to get the kiss av. An' her hair was as long as the tail av the Colonel's charger—forgive me mentionin' that blunderin' baste in the same mouthful with Annie Bragin—but 'twas all shpun gold, an' time was when ut was more than di'monds to me. There was niver pretty woman yet, an' I've had thruck wid a few, cud open the door to Annie Bragin.

No good iver comes av ut, an' there's always the chance av your bein' found wid your face in the dirt, a long picket in the back av your head, an' your hands playing the fifes on the tread av another man's doorstep. Kape out av the Married Quarters, I say, as I did not, 'Tis onwholesim, 'tis dangerous, an' 'tis ivrything else that's bad, but—O my sowl, 'tis swate while ut lasts! I was pershuaded—most bhoys are, I'm thinkin'—that no women born av woman cud stand against me av I hild up my little finger. I had reason fer thinkin' that way—till I met Annie Bragin. Now what divilment can Annie be up to? An' that, mark you, is the way av a man.

We had a quick pit stop in a small, super cute village called Strathpeffer, where we had a bit of a nosey around some of the wooden sculptures: We arrived at the parking lot for Ben Wyvis quite early, and easily got a space. There was a map clearly showing the route to the top, so we set off without having to really check anything. The first couple of miles are a gentle incline through varying levels of shrubbery before you come to the base of a fairly steep ascent. The ascent certainly seemed steep. At times, rocks had been placed which made it seem like you were climbing a never-ending staircase, and Lynsey was starting to struggle.

This was her first munro, and she admitted she may have been a bit optimistic about her fitness. It looked like someone had poured glitter all over the place, helped by the shining sun. We finally made it to the top of the steep ascent, where it was very blustery, but still had a couple of kilometres to walk along a relatively flat top towards the highest point. Dylan and Lynsey approaching the top. At the summit of Ben Wyvis. The views, thanks to not being in the clouds for a change, were fantastic. We could see some of the oil platforms in the distance, as well as several munros in the distance along the west coast in the other direction.

We went back the same way that we came, and realized that the mountain was very busy indeed. One woman asked us if she was nearly at the top.