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- Артур Конан Дойл
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I
looked
back
at
the
platform
when
we
had
left
it
far
behind
,
and
saw
the
tall
,
austere
figure
of
Holmes
standing
motionless
and
gazing
after
us
.
The
journey
was
a
swift
and
pleasant
one
,
and
I
spent
it
in
making
the
more
intimate
acquaintance
of
my
two
companions
and
in
playing
with
Dr.
Mortimer
's
spaniel
.
In
a
very
few
hours
the
brown
earth
had
become
ruddy
,
the
brick
had
changed
to
granite
,
and
red
cows
grazed
in
well-hedged
fields
where
the
lush
grasses
and
more
luxuriant
vegetation
spoke
of
a
richer
,
if
a
damper
,
climate
.
Young
Baskerville
stared
eagerly
out
of
the
window
,
and
cried
aloud
with
delight
as
he
recognized
the
familiar
features
of
the
Devon
scenery
.
"
I
've
been
over
a
good
part
of
the
world
since
I
left
it
,
Dr.
Watson
,
"
said
he
;
"
but
I
have
never
seen
a
place
to
compare
with
it
.
"
"
I
never
saw
a
Devonshire
man
who
did
not
swear
by
his
county
,
"
I
remarked
.
"
It
depends
upon
the
breed
of
men
quite
as
much
as
on
the
county
,
"
said
Dr.
Mortimer
.
"
A
glance
at
our
friend
here
reveals
the
rounded
head
of
the
Celt
,
which
carries
inside
it
the
Celtic
enthusiasm
and
power
of
attachment
.
Poor
Sir
Charles
's
head
was
of
a
very
rare
type
,
half
Gaelic
,
half
Ivernian
in
its
characteristics
.
But
you
were
very
young
when
you
last
saw
Baskerville
Hall
,
were
you
not
?
"
"
I
was
a
boy
in
my
'
teens
at
the
time
of
my
father
's
death
,
and
had
never
seen
the
Hall
,
for
he
lived
in
a
little
cottage
on
the
South
Coast
.
Thence
I
went
straight
to
a
friend
in
America
.
I
tell
you
it
is
all
as
new
to
me
as
it
is
to
Dr.
Watson
,
and
I
'm
as
keen
as
possible
to
see
the
moor
.
"
"
Are
you
?
Then
your
wish
is
easily
granted
,
for
there
is
your
first
sight
of
the
moor
,
"
said
Dr.
Mortimer
,
pointing
out
of
the
carriage
window
.
Over
the
green
squares
of
the
fields
and
the
low
curve
of
a
wood
there
rose
in
the
distance
a
gray
,
melancholy
hill
,
with
a
strange
jagged
summit
,
dim
and
vague
in
the
distance
,
like
some
fantastic
landscape
in
a
dream
.
Baskerville
sat
for
a
long
time
,
his
eyes
fixed
upon
it
,
and
I
read
upon
his
eager
face
how
much
it
meant
to
him
,
this
first
sight
of
that
strange
spot
where
the
men
of
his
blood
had
held
sway
so
long
and
left
their
mark
so
deep
.
There
he
sat
,
with
his
tweed
suit
and
his
American
accent
,
in
the
corner
of
a
prosaic
railway-carriage
,
and
yet
as
I
looked
at
his
dark
and
expressive
face
I
felt
more
than
ever
how
true
a
descendant
he
was
of
that
long
line
of
high-blooded
,
fiery
,
and
masterful
men
.
There
were
pride
,
valour
,
and
strength
in
his
thick
brows
,
his
sensitive
nostrils
,
and
his
large
hazel
eyes
.
If
on
that
forbidding
moor
a
difficult
and
dangerous
quest
should
lie
before
us
,
this
was
at
least
a
comrade
for
whom
one
might
venture
to
take
a
risk
with
the
certainty
that
he
would
bravely
share
it
.
The
train
pulled
up
at
a
small
wayside
station
and
we
all
descended
.
Outside
,
beyond
the
low
,
white
fence
,
a
wagonette
with
a
pair
of
cobs
was
waiting
.
Our
coming
was
evidently
a
great
event
,
for
station-master
and
porters
clustered
round
us
to
carry
out
our
luggage
.
It
was
a
sweet
,
simple
country
spot
,
but
I
was
surprised
to
observe
that
by
the
gate
there
stood
two
soldierly
men
in
dark
uniforms
,
who
leaned
upon
their
short
rifles
and
glanced
keenly
at
us
as
we
passed
.
The
coachman
,
a
hard-faced
,
gnarled
little
fellow
,
saluted
Sir
Henry
Baskerville
,
and
in
a
few
minutes
we
were
flying
swiftly
down
the
broad
,
white
road
.
Rolling
pasture
lands
curved
upward
on
either
side
of
us
,
and
old
gabled
houses
peeped
out
from
amid
the
thick
green
foliage
,
but
behind
the
peaceful
and
sunlit
country-side
there
rose
ever
,
dark
against
the
evening
sky
,
the
long
,
gloomy
curve
of
the
moor
,
broken
by
the
jagged
and
sinister
hills
.
