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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

Again and again Sim and
Candlish lamented the necessity: it was 'fair ruin on the
bestial,' they declared; but the thought of a judge and a scaffold
hunted them ever forward. I myself was not so much to be pitied.
All that night, and during the whole of the little that remained
before us of our conjunct journey, I enjoyed a new pleasure, the
reward of my prowess, in the now loosened tongue of Mr. Sim.
Candlish was still obdurately taciturn: it was the man's nature;
but Sim, having finally appraised and approved me, displayed
without reticence a rather garrulous habit of mind and a pretty
talent for narration. The pair were old and close companions, co-
existing in these endless moors in a brotherhood of silence such as
I have heard attributed to the trappers of the west. It seems
absurd to mention love in connection with so ugly and snuffy a
couple; at least, their trust was absolute; and they entertained a
surprising admiration for each other's qualities; Candlish
exclaiming that Sim was 'grand company!' and Sim frequently
assuring me in an aside that for 'a rale, auld, stench bitch, there
was nae the bate of Candlish in braid Scotland.' The two dogs
appeared to be entirely included in this family compact, and I
remarked that their exploits and traits of character were
constantly and minutely observed by the two masters.


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