It was not a particularly picturesque spot. From the northern bank of
the Tweed, just where the river forms a loop, there extends a gentle
slope of arable land. Across it run the trenches of the excavators,
with here and there an exposure of old stonework to show the foundations
of the ancient walls. It had been a huge place, for the camp was fifty
acres in extent, and the fort fifteen. However, it was all made easy
for them since Mr. Brown knew the farmer to whom the land belonged.
Under his guidance they spent a long summer evening inspecting the
trenches, the pits, the ramparts, and all the strange variety of objects
which were waiting to be transported to the Edinburgh Museum of
Antiquities. The buckle of a woman's belt had been dug up that very
day, and the farmer was discoursing upon it when his eyes fell upon Mrs.
Brown's face.

"Your good leddy's tired," said he. "Maybe you'd best rest a wee before
we gang further."

Brown looked at his wife. She was certainly very pale, and her dark
eyes were bright and wild.

"What is it, Maggie? I've wearied you. I'm thinkin' it's time we went
back."

"No, no, John, let us go on. It's wonderful! It's like a dreamland
place. It all seems so close and so near to me. How long were the
Romans here, Mr. Cunningham?"

"A fair time, mam. If you saw the kitchen midden-pits you would guess
it took a long time to fill them."