Roman camps, to be
absolutely accurate, give me the pip. And I never want to see another
putrid fossil in my life. Let us find some shady nook where a man may
lie on his back for a bit."
Mike, over whom the proceedings connected with the Roman camp had long
since begun to shed a blue depression, offered no opposition, and they
strolled away down the hill.
Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists were still hard at it.
Their departure had passed unnoticed.
"A fatiguing pursuit, this grubbing for mementos of the past," said
Psmith. "And, above all, dashed bad for the knees of the trousers. Mine
are like some furrowed field. It's a great grief to a man of refinement,
I can tell you, Comrade Jackson. Ah, this looks a likely spot."
They had passed through a gate into the field beyond. At the farther end
there was a brook, shaded by trees and running with a pleasant sound
over pebbles.
"Thus far," said Psmith, hitching up the knees of his trousers, and
sitting down, "and no farther. We will rest here awhile, and listen to
the music of the brook. In fact, unless you have anything important to
say, I rather think I'll go to sleep. In this busy life of ours these
naps by the wayside are invaluable.
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