ugh, so much so that I changed by mind completely about the force of
Victorian storms, and when at last I found my way back to the others I
was sopping from the sole of my boots to the top of the woe-begone hat I
had hurriedly thrust on my head. As matters stood I could not get any
wetter, and I supposed that Cumshaw was in much the same state.
Nevertheless there was Moira to think of, and the sooner we got to
shelter of some sort, a cave on the hillside or even a tolerably thick
bush, the better it was going to be for all of us. I shouted this to
Cumshaw--it was very hard to hear now that the gale had risen and was
blowing everything to ribbons--and he understood me only after a couple
of attempts. So I took Moira by one chill wet hand and Cumshaw took the
other, and thus in the darkness and the steady soaking rain began our
hunt for shelter of some sort.

I haven't an idea how far we walked. We just kept on and on, and really
I think we did not notice the storm so much as if we had been standing
still. Most of the time our attention was too taken up with feeling our
way, for the ground was very slippery and more than once I almost lost
my footing, to give more than a passing thought to personal discomfort.
It was too dark to see more than an inch or so in front of us, and even
then we saw nothing more than a black wall that constantly receded as we
advanced and yet was still as near as ever in the end. I don't think any
of us realised that we had drifted into a gully or a track of some sort
until I put out a tentative hand and felt a wall of bushes dead in front
of me. I pulled back with a jerk, but my sudden movement startled the
others, and in the flurry of the moment they did the very thing I had
been trying to avoid. They slipped and I went with them. I had sense
enough to release Moira's hand the moment I felt the drag of her body,
and then, before I quite knew what had happened. I found I was whirling
along in the mud, cavorting down the side of something that looked, or
felt--for I couldn't see, as I've already stated--very much like the
edge of a precipice. I brought up, just when I was beginning to wonder
how much further I had to fall, by colliding with something that felt
very like a hedge of brambles. There I lay in the soaking rain, with the
mud plastered thickly on my face, and every bit of breath knocked out of
my body.

Somehow it seemed quieter down here. The wind still whistled and roared,
but it wa