White fog.
Then I seemed to lose my head altogether, and hurried here and there
with my hands extended, completely astray.
It only took moments, swift moments, for all this to take place, and
then I heard voices that I knew, but sounding muffled and as if a long
way off.
"Cob! Where are you, Cob?"
"Here," I shouted. "I'll try and come."
"No, no!"--it was Uncle Jack who spoke--"don't stir for your life."
"But," I shouted, with my voice sounding as if I was covered with a
blanket, "I want to come to you."
"Stop where you are," he cried. "I command you."
I stayed where I was, and the next moment a fresh voice cried to me, as
if pitying my condition:
"Cob, lad."
"Yes," I cried.
"There is a horrible precipice. Don't stir."
It was Uncle Bob who said this to comfort me, and make me safe from
running risks, but he made me turn all of a cold perspiration, and I
stood there shivering, listening to the murmur of voices that came to me
in a stifled way.
At last I could bear it no longer. It seemed so strange. Only a minute
or two ago we were all together on the top of a great hill admiring the
prospect. Now we were separated. Then all seemed open and clear, and
we were looking away for miles: now I seemed shut-in by this pale white
gloom that stopped my sight, and almost my hearing, while it numbed and
confused my faculties in a way that I could not have felt possible.
"Uncle Jack!" I cried, as a sudden recollection came back of a cry I
had heard.
"He is not here," cried Uncle Bob. "He is trying to find a way down."
"Where is Uncle Dick?"
"Hush, boy! Don't ask."
"But, uncle, I may come to you, may I not?" I cried, trembling with the
dread of what had happened, for in spite of my confused state I realised
now that Uncle Dick must have fallen.
"My boy," he shouted back, "I daren't say yes. The place ends here in a
terrible way. We two nearly went over, and I dare not stir, for I
cannot see a yard from my feet. I am on a very steep slope too."
"But where has Uncle Jack gone then?"
"Ahoy!" came from somewhere behind me, and apparently below.
"Ahoy! Uncle Jack," I yelled.
"Ahoy, boy! I want to come to you. Keep shouting
_here_--_here_--_here_."
I did as he bade me, and he kept answering me, and for a minute or two
he seemed to be coming nearer. Then his voice sounded more distant, and
more distant still; then ceased.
"Cob, I can't hear him," came from near me out of the dense gloom. "Can
you?"
"No!" I said with a shiver.
"Ahoy, Jack!" roared Uncle Bob.
"Ahoy-oy!" came from a distance in a curiously stifled way.
"Give it up till the fog clears off. Stand still."
There was no reply, and once more the terrible silence seemed to cling
round me. The gloom increased, and I sank on my knees, not daring to
stand now, but listening, if I may say so, with all my might.
What had happened? What was going to happen? Were we to stay there all
night in the darkness, shivering with cold and damp? Only a little
while ago I had been tired and hot; now I did not feel the fatigue, but
was shivering with cold, and my hands and face were wet.
I wanted to call out to Uncle Bob again, but the sensation came over
me--the strange, wild fancy that something had happened to him, and I
dared not speak for fear of finding that it was true.
All at once as I knelt there, listening intently for the slightest
sound, I fancied I heard some one breathing. Then the sound stopped.
Then it came nearer, and the dense mist parted, and a figure was upon
me, crawling close by me without seeing me; and crying "Uncle Bob!" I
started forward and caught at him as I thought. My hands seized moist
wool for a moment, and then it was jerked out of my hands, as, with a
frightened _Baa_! Its wearer bounded away.
"What's that?" came from my left and below me, in the same old
suffocated tone.
"A sheep," I cried, trembling with the start the creature had given me.
"Did you see which way it went?"
"Yes--beyond me."
"Then it must be safe your way, Cob. I'll try and crawl to you, lad,
but I'm so unnerved I can hardly make up my mind to stir."
"Let me come to you," I cried.
"No, no! I'll try and get to you. Where are you?"
"Here," I cried.
"All right!" came back in answer; but matters did not seem all right,
for Uncle Bob's voice suddenly seemed to grow more distant, and when I
shouted to him my cry came back as if I had put my face against a wall
and spoken within an inch or two thereof.
"I think we'd better give it up, Cob," he shouted now from somewhere
quite different. "It is not safe to stir."