Freaks on the Fells, Robert Michael Ballantyne [ebook pdf reader for pc TXT] 📗

wet himself and _wade with his shoes on_. He did it too, and, in the course of an hour, tumbled into so many peat-bogs, and besmeared himself with so much coffee-coloured mud, that his own mother would have failed to recognise him. He was supremely happy--so was his father. At the very first cast he, (the father), hooked a trout of half a pound weight, and lost it, too! but that was nothing. The next cast he caught one of nearly a pound. George was equally successful. Fortune smiled. Before evening began to close, both baskets were half full of splendid trout; Lucy's basket was quite full of botanical specimens; Fred's sketch was a success, and Jacky was as brown as a Hottentot from head to foot. They prepared to return home, rejoicing.

Haste was needful now. A short cut round the shoulder of the ridge was recommended by George, and taken. It conducted them into a totally different gap from the one which led to their own valley. If followed out, this route would have led them to a spot ten miles distant from their Highland home; but they were in blissful ignorance of the fact. All gaps and gorges looked much the same to them. Suddenly Mr Sudberry paused:--

"Is this the way we came?"

Grave looks, but no reply.

"Let us ascend this ridge, and make sure that we are right."

They did so, and made perfectly certain that they were wrong. Attempting to correct their mistake, they wandered more hopelessly out of their way, but it was not until the shades of night began to fall that Mr Sudberry, with a cold perspiration on his brow, expressed his serious belief that they were "lost!"


STORY ONE, CHAPTER 10.


LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS.

Did ever the worthy London merchant, in the course of his life, approach to the verge of the region of despair, it was on that eventful night when he found himself and his family lost among the mountains of Scotland.

"It's dreadful," said he, sitting down on a cold grey rock, and beginning slowly to realise the utter hopelessness of their condition.

"My poor Lucy, don't be cast down," (drawing her to his breast), "after all, it will only be a night of wandering. But we _must_ keep moving. We must not venture to lie down in our wet clothes. We must not even rest long at a time, lest a chill should come upon you."

"But I'm quite warm, papa, and only a very little tired. I could walk for miles yet." She said this cheerily, but she could not help looking anxious. The night was so dark, however, that no one could see her looks.

"Do let me go off alone, father," urged George; "I am as fresh as possible, and could run over the hills until I should fall in with--"

"Don't mention it, George; I feel that our only hope is to keep together. Poor Peter! what will become of that boy?"

Mr Sudberry became almost, desperate as he thought of the small clerk. He started up. "Come, we must keep moving. You are not cold, dear? are you _sure_ you are not cold?"

"Quite sure, papa; why are you so anxious?"

"Because I have a flask of brandy, which I mean to delay using until we break down and cannot get on without it. Whenever you begin to get chilled I must give you brandy. Not till then, however; spirits are hurtful when there is hard toil before you, but when you break down there is no resource left. Rest, food, sleep, would be better; but these we have no chance of getting to-night. Poor Jacky! does he keep warm, George?"

"No fear of him," cried George, with forced gaiety. "He's all right."

Jack had broken down completely soon after nightfall. Vigorously, manfully had he struggled to keep up; but when his usual hour for going to bed arrived, nature refused to sustain him. He sank to the ground, and then George wrapped him up in his shooting-coat, in which he now lay, sound asleep, like a dirty brown bundle, on his brother's shoulders.

"I'll tell you what," said Fred, after they had walked, or rather stumbled, on for some time in silence. "Suppose you all wait here for ten minutes while I run like a greyhound to the nearest height and see if anything is to be seen. Mamma must have alarmed the whole neighbourhood by this time; and if they are looking for us, they will be sure to have lanterns or torches."

"A good idea, my boy. Go, and pause every few minutes to shout, so that we may not lose you. Keep shouting, Fred, and we will wait here and reply."

Fred was off in a moment, and before he had got fifty yards away was floundering knee-deep in a peat-bog. So much for reckless haste, thought he, as he got out of the bog and ran forward with much more caution. Soon those waiting below heard his clear voice far up the heights. A few minutes more, and it rang forth again more faintly. Mr Sudberry remarked that it sounded as if it came from the clouds: he put his hands to his mouth sailor fashion, and replied. Then they listened intently for the next shout. How still it was while they sat there! What a grand, gloomy solitude! They could hear no sound but the beating of their own hearts. Solemn thoughts of the Creator of these mighty hills crept into their minds as they gazed around and endeavoured to pierce the thick darkness. But this was impossible. It was one of those nights in which the darkness was so profound that no object could be seen even indistinctly at the distance of ten yards. Each could see the other's form like a black marble statue, but no feature could be traced. The mountain peaks and ridges could indeed be seen against the dark sky, like somewhat deeper shadows; but the crags and corries, the scattered rocks and heathery knolls, the peat-bogs and the tarns of the wild scene which these circling peaks enclosed--all were steeped in impenetrable gloom. There seemed something terrible, almost unnatural, in this union of thick darkness with profound silence. Mr Sudberry was startled by the sound of his own voice when he again spoke.

"The boy must have gone too far. I cannot hear--"

"Hush!"

"Hi!" in the far distance, like a faint echo. They all breathed more freely, and Mr Sudberry uttered a powerful response. Presently the shout came nearer--nearer still; and soon Fred rejoined them, with the disheartening information that he had gained the summit of the ridge, and could see nothing whatever!

"Well, my children," said Mr Sudberry, with an assumption of cheerfulness which he was far from feeling, "nothing now remains but to push straight forward as fast as we can. We _must_ come to a road of some sort in the long-run, which will conduct to somewhere or other, no doubt. Come, cheer up; forward! Follow close behind me, Lucy. George, do you take the lead--you are the most active and sharp-sighted among us; and mind the bogs."

"What if we walk right over a precipice!" thought Fred. He had almost said it, but checked himself for fear of alarming the rest unnecessarily. Instead of cautioning George, he quietly glided to the front, and took the lead.

Slowly, wearily, and painfully they plodded on, stumbling at times over a rugged and stone-covered surface, sometimes descending a broken slope that grew more and more precipitous until it became dangerous, and then, fearing to go farther--not knowing what lay before--they had to retrace their steps and search for a more gradual descent. Now crossing a level patch that raised their hopes, inclining them to believe that they had reached the bottom of the valley; anon coming suddenly upon a steep ascent that dashed their hopes, and induced them to suppose they had turned in the wrong direction, and were re-ascending instead of descending the mountain. All the time Jacky slept like a top, and George, being a sturdy fellow, carried him without a murmur. Several times Fred tried to make him give up his burden, but George was inexorably obstinate. So they plodded on till nearly midnight.

"Is that a house?" said Fred, stopping short, and pointing to a dark object just in front of them. "No, it's a lake."

"Nonsense, it's a mountain."

A few more steps, and Fred recoiled with a cry of horror. It was a precipice full a hundred feet deep--the dark abyss of which had assumed such varied aspects in their eyes!

A long _detour_ followed, and they reached the foot in safety. Here the land became boggy.

Each step was an act fraught with danger, anxiety, and calculation. Whether they should step knee-deep into a hole full of water, or trip over a rounded mass of solid turf, was a matter of absolute uncertainty until the step was taken.

"Oh that we had only a gleam of moonshine," said Lucy with a sigh. Moonshine! How often had George in the course of his life talked with levity, almost amounting to contempt, of things being "all a matter of moonshine!" What would he not have given to have had only a tithe of the things which surrounded him at that time converted into "moonshine!"

A feeble cheer from Fred caused an abrupt halt:--

"What is it?"

"Hallo!"

"What now?"

"The lake at last!--Our own loch! I know the shape of it well! Hurrah!"

Everyone was overjoyed. They all gazed at it long and earnestly, and unitedly came to the conclusion that it was the loch--probably at the distance of a mile or so. Pushing forward with revived spirits, they came upon the object of their hopes much sooner than had been anticipated. In fact, it was not more than two hundred yards distant. A wild yell of laughter mingled with despair burst from Fred as the lake galloped away in the shape of a _white horse_! The untravelled reader may possibly doubt this. Yet it _is a fact_ that a white horse was thus mistaken for a distant lake!

The revulsion of feeling was tremendous. Everyone sighed, and Mr Sudberry groaned, for at that moment the thought of poor Peter recurred to his mind. Yet there remained a strange feeling of kindliness in the breast of each towards that white horse. It was an undeniable proof of the existence of animal life in those wild regions, a fact which the deep solitude of all around had tempted them madly to doubt--unknown even to themselves. Besides, it suggested the idea of an owner to the horse; and by a natural and easy process of reasoning they concluded that the owner must be a human being, and that, when at home, he probably dwelt in a house. What more probable than that the house was even then within hail?

Acting on the idea, Mr Sudberry shouted for two minutes with all his might, the only result of which was to render himself extremely hoarse. Then George tried it, and so did Fred, and Jacky awoke and began to whimper and to ask to be