The suspicion of being everywhere suspected was with the poor outcast abroad as well as at home.
Quickly as the darkness fell in on that Sunday in mid-winter, Robbie had travelled many miles before the necessity occurred to him of seeking lodgings for the night.

He had intended to reach the little town of Winander that day, and he had done so.

It was late, however, and after a frugal supper, Robbie went off to bed.
Early next day, Monday, the young dalesman set about inquiries among the townspeople as to whether a man answering to the description which he gave of Sim had been seen to pass through the town.

Many persons declared that they had seen such a one the day before, and some insisted that he was still in Winander.

An old fellow in a smock, who, being obviously beyond all active labor, employed his time and energies in the passive occupation of watching everybody from the corner of a street, and in chatting with as many as had conversation to spend on his superannuated garrulity, affirmed very positively that he had talked with Sim as recently as an hour ago.
Right or wrong, this was evidence of Sim's whereabouts which Robbie felt that he could not ignore.