It looked an awful place below us--a wild
amphitheatre of dreary hills and moors!
We had no compass to guide us, and in the absence of light from the sun
we could not tell in what direction we were travelling, so with our
backs towards the hills we had crossed, we made our way across the bog,
now saturated with water. We could hear it gurgling under our feet at
every stride, even when we could not see it, and occasionally we slipped
into holes nearly knee-deep in water. After floundering in the bog for
some time, and not knowing which way to turn, as we appeared to be
surrounded with hills, we decided to try to walk against the wind which
was blowing from the sea, for we knew that if we could reach the coast
we should also reach the highway, which ran alongside it. But we soon
had to give in, for we came to great rocks impossible for us to scale,
so we had to abandon this direction and try another. The rain still
continued, and our hands had now been bleached quite white with the rain
beating on them, just like those of a washerwoman after a heavy day's
washing. We knew that the night would shortly be coming on, and the
terrible thought of a dark night on the moors began to haunt us.
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