And what had become of Dick and Elsie? The account given by the
Corporal had, of course, been perfectly true. It was Dick who had been
the first to see the hunted stag about a quarter of a mile away,
travelling along at that steady lurching gallop which seems so slow and
is so astonishingly swift; and it had needed all the Corporal's
firmness to keep the boy from galloping after him on the spot. And
then after a time the hounds had come on upon the line of the deer,
their great white bodies conspicuous as they strode on in long drawn
file across the waste of pale green grass, and the sound of their deep
voices booming faintly over the vast solitude. Surely and steadily
they pressed on, seeming like the deer to move but slowly, but in
reality running their hardest with a swinging relentless stride. There
was something almost dreamlike in this strange procession as it moved
on between green earth and blue heaven, with none to see it, as it
appeared, but the white-winged curlew which whistled mournfully
overhead. But presently a little group of horsemen appeared on the far
side of the hounds, just six of them in all. The old huntsman was
leading them, in his long skirted coat and double-peaked cap, as Dick
had often seen him, with his little legs thrust forward, his old body
bent over his saddle-bow, and his eyes glued to his hounds. Just a few
yards from him rode Colonel George, erect and easy, but also evidently
with no eyes for anything but the hounds; and close after him came
three more, while the sixth was a full hundred yards behind.
And all the time the Corporal and the children kept moving down, as if
drawn by some fascination, insensibly closer to them. Old Billy was
worrying at his bit and dancing about, and the ponies squeaking and
dancing round him; until for the sake of peace the Corporal allowed the
old horse to move in the direction which he desired, when an impatient
trot soon turned after a few huge strides to an impatient canter, and
Billy put his head down and was off. And off the ponies went also, for
they had taken the bit in their teeth and meant to catch the hindmost
of the horsemen if they could; and neither Dick nor Elsie turned their
heads, or they would have seen Billy plunge deep into a patch of bog,
and come down heavily, throwing the Corporal far over his head. So on
they went, flying down the long slope before them, dashed across a
little stream at its foot in hot pursuit of the last of the horsemen,
and on again along a little track on the other side. The ascent was a
little steep beyond the stream, but the ponies struggled gamely up, and
then another long slope stretched downward before them, beyond which
rose a great bank of heather. The hounds had already reached the
heather and were breasting the ascent, but their voices could be heard
now and then, and the last of the horsemen was not many hundred yards
ahead. So away the ponies went again, the children nothing loth, for
they doubted not but that the Corporal was near them. By the time that
they reached the foot of the slope the ponies were beginning to roll a
little, but they splashed through the next little stream as lively as
ever, and began to gallop up through the heather on the other side.
The horseman whom the children were following was still just in sight,
hugging his horse up the ascent; but first his horse's tail disappeared
over the hill, then only his shoulders were visible, then only his hat,
and presently he vanished from sight altogether. And Dick hustled his
pony up the hill to catch him, and Elsie hustled hers after him; but
the feeble gallop soon became a slow trot, and the trot became feebler
and feebler in spite of all the hustling. Before long both ponies were
sobbing heavily, and it was only with great difficulty that the
children kept them going fast enough to regain sight of their leader.
Presently the ponies came to a dead stop, and Dick looked about him for
the Corporal; but the Corporal was nowhere to be seen.
As a matter of fact the Corporal at that moment was just rising to his
feet, and wondering whether he was on his head or his heels. For old
Billy on finding himself in the bog had plunged madly about,
girth-deep, until he had pumped all the wind out of himself, when he
had waited quietly to recover his breath and floundered out on to the
sound ground, shaking such a shower of brown drops over the Corporal as
brought him to himself and made him stagger to his feet, rub his eyes,
and remember where he was. He soon made out in which direction Billy
was gone and presently caught sight of him, making his way to the water
to drink; but the horse was not going to let himself be caught at once,
and led the Corporal a long dance down by the water-side, where, of
course, he could see nothing of the children, though he kept hallooing
from time to time in the hope that they would hear him.
And meanwhile the children looked round and round, wondering where they
had come from and where they should go to. They had not the least idea
where they were, and they could see no one and hear no one; but they
laid their heads together and decided that they had better go on to the
top of the hill before them, from which, as Dick said, they would be
able to see further. So as soon as the ponies had recovered their wind
they went on upward, and presently to their delight they saw far ahead
of them the horseman whom they had followed, no longer moving but
stopped still. They hustled the ponies into a gallop once more, when
to their dismay the man began to move slowly on away from them. They
called out at the top of their voices but could not make him hear, in
fact he seemed rather to quicken his pace. So they drove the ponies on
again, not noticing that tufts of grass were beginning to show
themselves in the heather over which they rode. Then the man suddenly
turned to his left and went galloping on, and the children turned also
to catch him by cutting off the corner; but the ponies seemed unable to
travel very fast, and presently Dick's pony after some desperate
floundering came right down on his nose, shooting the boy gently over
his ears, where he landed with his head and shoulders in a shallow pool
of brown peaty water.
Dick jumped to his feet at once, for he was not a bit frightened, and
caught the pony easily; but he felt a little humiliated, for he could
just see that his white collar was stained with brown mud, and he did
not like the trickling of the water down his back. It took him a few
minutes to repair damages, and when he put his foot into the stirrup to
jump up again, the saddle began to turn round on the pony's back, and
he had to jump down again hastily and try to set the saddle right while
Elsie held the pony's rein. But while he was heaving with all his
little strength, the pony's back suddenly sank before him, and Elsie
cried out that Stonecrop (for that was the pony's name) was going to
lie down. Like a wise little woman she gave the rein a jerk, which
brought Stonecrop's head up and kept him on his legs; but Stonecrop was
so much annoyed that he whisked round and tugged so hard at the rein
that he drew it over his head; and Dick had only just time to catch
hold of it before Elsie was obliged to let go, for fear of being pulled
out of her saddle. Then Stonecrop, who was now still more annoyed and
had quite recovered his wind, refused for a long time to allow the rein
to be put over his head again, but kept dodging and backing until he
drove Elsie almost to despair. At last he backed into some soft ground
where he could not move very quickly, and Dick threw the rein over his
head; after which Stonecrop decided to behave himself, and actually
stood still for a moment to let Dick mount him. The saddle very nearly
turned round as he did so, but Elsie held on stoutly to the stirrup on
the other side, and, once mounted, Dick soon set the saddle straight
again by his weight; but both of the children were wearied and
disheartened by all these misfortunes, for Stonecrop had kept them
waiting by his antics for more than half an hour.
Then they looked about them again for some one to guide them, and
particularly for the Corporal; but the Corporal, as luck would have it,
though he was trying his best to find them, never came within eyesight
or earshot of them. Besides, Billy was so lame that he could not ride
him very fast, and the Corporal himself was not so sure of his way but
that he had to keep looking out sharply to remember where he was. So
seeing no help Dick and Elsie made up their minds that they must try to
find their own way home, though they had little idea in which direction
to start, for they had never been so far on the moor before. The
rolling hills and grass and heather seemed to be very much the same on
every side, and there was no road nor track to guide them. Dick did
indeed think of following the hoof-marks of their own ponies backward,
for he had heard the Corporal tell stories how lost and tired soldiers
had rejoined an army on the march by sticking to its tracks; but
unfortunately this was not very easy. Very soon they made up their
minds that the first thing to be done was to get clear of the
treacherous ground on which they stood, for the ponies floundered
terribly, and in one desperate scramble over a very soft place Dick let
his whip fall and could not find it again. Still on they went, and at
last came to a little trickle of water in a hollow, running between
what seemed to be sound green grass; but the ponies refused to cross
it; and it was well that they did so, for it was deeper and more
dangerous than any ground that they had yet traversed. So there was
nothing for it but to follow the water in the hope that the ground
would improve; and accordingly they did follow it, upward. The stream
grew smaller and smaller, and Dick hugged himself with the idea that
when it disappeared altogether they would be able to travel faster.
But, on the contrary, the ground grew worse instead of better, for
water underground makes worse foothold than water flowing honestly
above, and very soon they lost all sense of their direction in the
difficulty of keeping the ponies on their legs at all. At last after
several very unpleasant struggles they luckily found their way out of
the worst of the bog; but there seemed to be no end to the tract of
mixed grass and heather, which is always treacherous to ride over; and
the ponies were constantly in difficulties. Then to Dick's joy at last
they came upon tracks of a horse or pony, and there was something to
guide them, though it was very often difficult to find and follow it.
They wandered on, however, until Dick's eye caught the gleam of silver,
and there lay his lost whip; so that, after all their riding, they had
but wandered round and round and come back to the place from which they
had started.
Poor Elsie, who was getting very tired, was very much disheartened, but
Dick choked down his vexation and disappointment, for it was at any
rate something for him to recover his whip, which he valued greatly.
Stonecrop was too much blown now to give much trouble, so he jumped off
and picked it up safely, and then he and Elsie held a long
consultation, and at last agreed to make straight for a high hill
towards which the sun was sinking. So they turned their ponies' heads
towards it, and started again, keeping their eyes steadily on a mound
or barrow on the hill-top. In a short time they found themselves clear
of the boggy ground; and the ponies stepped out so bravely that they
felt sure that they were going right. So they trotted on, greatly
encouraged, and came to a stream babbling over its bed of yellow
stones, though the ground beyond it was so steep that they were obliged
to follow it for some distance before they could find a way across.
Thus they were compelled to move slowly, and Elsie suddenly gave a
little shiver, and both she and Dick realised that the air was grown
chill and that the light was beginning to fail. Still they pressed the
ponies on, and at last they caught sight again of the barrow on the
hill, though, to their disappointment, it seemed little nearer than
before. Then even while they watched it, a great bank of gray mist
suddenly came rolling out of the west and blotted out the barrow and
the ridge on which it stood. Still they rode on towards the same
point, until, almost before they knew it, the mist was upon them and
they could not see fifty yards away. Their hearts sank within them as
the darkness gathered round them, but though they drew closer together
they said nothing, for the ponies still travelled on with confidence,
and they hoped that all the while they were drawing nearer to the
barrow. But the mist struck damp and cold through them, weary and
fasting as they were, and they had much ado to keep up each other's
spirits. So they wandered on, until the ponies, as if they felt that
their little riders had lost resolution, came to a dead stop. A keen
breeze came out of the west, chilling the two children to the bone; and
Stonecrop turning his head to the wind broke out into a long wailing
whinny, which brought home to the children such a sense of their
loneliness and desolation that Elsie looked blankly at Dick and Dick as
blankly at Elsie, and neither found heart to say a word.
So they sat in their saddles for a minute or two silent and hopeless,
when suddenly both ponies pricked their ears and snuffed at the wind,
and Stonecrop again raised a loud but more cheerful whinny. And out of
the mist faint and far distant came the sound of a whinny in answer.
Then Elsie stopped, checked the tears that were rising to her eyes, and
looked at Dick, who was listening intently. He had some thought of
jumping off and saying his prayers, except that he was not sure how
Stonecrop would behave; but, even while he reflected, Stonecrop's knees
began to bend as if to lie down again, and then he caught hold of the
pony by the head and gave him a cut with his whip that drove him on in
a hurry. "Come along, Elsie," he said resolutely, "if we can reach
that horse we may find some one to help us. Perhaps it may be Billy."
And off he went dead up wind at a good round pace, which warmed them
both and put them into better heart; and Dick broke into a cantering
song which the Corporal had taught him, and sang it in time to
Stonecrop's pace.
"_Oh, a soldier's son, and a soldier's son,
He must never go back, but always go on.
Though it may be hard, he must always try,
Though he may be hurt, he must never cry.
He must never lose heart nor seem distressed,
But pluck up his courage and do his best.
And so struggle on, and on, and on,
For that's the way for a soldier's son._"
Now nothing is more certain than that, if you wish to find your way
through a fog, you must travel in the direction that you have chosen as
fast as you can. Very soon the children found themselves going down
rather a steep descent, when Stonecrop again stopped and whinnied, and
an answering whinny once more came faintly out of the mist. So they
kept on their way down and came to a stream, where Dick guided his pony
across and up the ascent on the other side. But Stonecrop after
scrambling up for a little way deliberately came back to the water and
followed it downwards, sometimes in the bed of the stream, sometimes on
the bank by the side; and Dick let him go, feeling confident that the
pony knew better than he. So they went splashing down for a long way,
wondering what would come next, until Stonecrop again stopped and
whinnied; and a little further on they came upon another little stream,
running into that which they were following, where the pony turned and
followed the new water upward. A little further on he gave a kind of
whispered grunt of satisfaction, and presently there came the sound not
only of neighing but of pattering hoofs, and a pony suddenly came
trotting out of the mist towards them. He stopped and whinnied gently,
turned round, trotted back for some way, then stood and whinnied again,
while the children's ponies hastened their own pace towards him. Then
the sound of a shrill whistle came down the water, and the strange pony
at once turned and cantered away towards it; but Stonecrop only moved
the faster in the same direction, giving a loud scream to call him
back. And now a faint light came dancing down by the water, drawing
closer and closer to the children till they could see that it was a man
carrying a lantern. Nearer and nearer it came, and Dick cleared his
throat and began, "Oh, please--," whereupon the man stopped so short
that Dick stopped too, and Elsie came up close to him and clung to his
arm. Then the light disappeared and the man gave a peculiar whistle.
It was answered by the same whistle at a distance, and the children
waited with beating hearts till the light appeared again; and at last a
woman's voice said very roughly out of the mist,
"Who's there?"
"Oh, please, we have lost our way," said Dick; "please, please tell us
the way home."
A suspicious grunt was the only answer; and Dick hastened to go on,
"Oh, please, we mean no harm, but we've lost our way. It's only Elsie
and me."
"Ah!" said the woman's voice, as if in surprise.
"Yes, it's only Dick and me," said Elsie in her most reassuring voice,
but, like Dick, forgetting her grammar.
And then a curious, cackling laugh sounded out of the mist; the lantern
came bounding forward, and before she could realise what had happened,
Elsie found her skirt seized and a great rough head scrubbing against
it. She gave a cry of terror, but directly afterwards the lantern
showed her the face of the idiot, which grinned at her with delight for
a moment and then bent again to kiss her skirt. Then another figure
came out of the darkness, seized the lantern and held it first to her
face and then to Dick's. They saw that it was the idiot's mother, and
Dick again repeated, though with much secret fear, that they had lost
their way.
"Is there no one with 'ee?" asked the woman astonished.
"No," said Dick sadly. "We're lost."
"Why, my dear tender hearts," said the woman in a voice of great pity,
"to think of that. But don't 'ee cry, my dear," for she could hear
Elsie sobbing gently, "don't 'ee cry, for 'tis all well now. See now,
my house is close by, and you'm safe, both of 'ee. Come long with me,
and don't be afeared; I'll take care of 'ee and take 'ee home safe
enough. To think of that now--" and so she went on, leading the way
for them with the lantern for another quarter of a mile up the water,
till she stopped, and saying, "Now, my dears, we'm home," lifted Elsie
from her saddle and carried her under a low doorway, and then coming
back, called Dick in also, leaving the ponies in charge of the idiot.