he would
have sprung back in alarm. But he did not know--he did not entertain
the faintest idea of the truth so he boldly, though cautiously, began to
clamber down, assisting Lucy to descend.

Man, (including woman), knows not what he can accomplish until he tries.
Millions of glittering gold would not have induced any member of that
party to descend such a place in the dark, had they known what it was--
yet they accomplished it in safety. Down, down they went!

"Dear me, when shall we reach the foot? We must be near it now."

No, they were not near it; still down they went, becoming more and more
alarmed, yet always tempted on by the feeling that each step would bring
them to the bottom.

"What a noise the stream makes! why, it must be a river!"

No, it was not a river--it was a mere burn; quite a little burn, but--
what then? Little men are always fussier and noisier than big men;
little boys invariably howl more furiously than big boys. Nature is
full of analogies; and little streams, especially mountain streams,
always make more ado in finding their level than big rivers.

They got down at last, and then they found the stream rushing, bursting,
crashing among rent and riven rocks and boulders as if it had gone
furiously mad, and was resolved never more to flow and murmur, but
always to leap and roar. It was impassable; to walk down its banks or
bed was impossible, so the wanderers had to re-ascend the bank, and roam
away over black space in search of another crossing. They soon lost the
sound in the intricacies of cliffs and dells, and never again found that
stream. But they found a narrow path, and Fred announced the discovery
with a cheer. It was an extremely rugged path, and appeared to have
been macadamised with stones the size of a man's head. This led them to
suspect that it must be a ditch, not a path; but it turned out to be the
dry bed of a mountain-torrent--dry, at least, as regards running water,
though not dry in respect of numerous stagnant pools, into which at
various times each member of the party stepped unintentionally. It
mattered not--nothing could make them wetter or more miserable than they
were--so they thought. They had yet to learn that the thoughts of men
are forever misleading them, and that there is nothing more certain than
the uncertainty of all human calculations.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 11.

STILL LOST!

Meanwhile, Mrs Sudberry was thrown into a species of frenzi