220 THE GREATEST RUN 



not to be yet. The thought uppermost in 

 my mind is, what a wonder my horse is ! 

 Is it possible for any animal to survive this ? 

 and yet he is going strong. The moors 

 look endless ; I can see, even in the fast- 

 deepening dusk, miles of desolation in front. 

 A turn to the right, and we reach the 

 edge of the hillside above Ingleby. Down 

 the rocks and the cliff-side dash the now 

 only seven couple, and once more open into 

 cry. The pace on the moor was too great 

 for much speaking. I cannot get down 

 there. I make a despairing effort to cross 

 a bog at the top— I cannot do it. The north 

 wind is blowing a cloud of spray from the 

 dripping bog at the edge of the cliff, and the 

 stars are cominof out. I see bevond me an 

 abandoned workman's shanty, and my mind 



