CHAP. x. A FURIOUS STORM. 187 



was crossed by numerous paths, but he knew just 

 as much of the one path as he did about the other. 

 The country round him was one wide expanse of 

 moorland. There was nothing before him but moor, 

 moor, moor ! He saw no object that could serve to 

 guide him. He merely saw the outlines of the 

 nearest hills faintly visible through the watery haze ; 

 but he did not recognise them. He began to feel 

 himself lost on a lonesome moor. 



He was now at his wits' end. Having been for 

 some time without food, he was now becoming faint. 

 And yet he could not remain where he was. He again 

 began to run. The sky was now almost as black as 

 night, and the sheets of rain were falling as heavily 

 as before. Only the vivid flashes of lightning enabled 

 him to trace the direction in which he was going. 

 He plunged into bog after bog; extricated him- 

 self ; and then ran for life. Sometimes he came 

 to a likely track and followed it; but it led to 

 nothing, only to a succession of tracks which led 

 off in various directions across the moor. At last he 

 ran straight forward, without paying any regard to 

 tracks. By continuing in this course he event- 

 ually came to a road, a gladsome sight, because it 

 must lead to some dwelling or other. But which way 

 should he go ? He knew nothing of the direction of 

 the road, for he had altogether lost his reckoning, 

 and every landmark was invisible. 



After a few moments' consideration he bethought 



