"Well," said Roy, gasping as he spoke; "I'm afraid this old mist is getting into my chest, and I can't go very fast when my breath gets short. What shall we do? Can you shout—p'raps that man with the donkey might hear us."
Dudley shouted and shouted till he was hoarse, and then the little fellows trudged wearily on.
"You see," said Roy, bravely; "we must get somewhere if we go straight on."
"I believe," said Dudley, in doleful tones; "that you get right round the world and come back to where you started, if you only walk straight enough!"
This depressing view did not comfort his cousin.
"I've always thought it would be very exciting to be lost," Roy said with a sigh; "but it doesn't seem very nice, does it? And it is so cold. I wonder if we shall meet with any adventures, lost people generally do."
"If we could come into a gipsies' camp with a huge fire and a pot of stewed hares, it would be stunning! Or if we could find old Principle's cave, that would be better still!"
They were stumbling on, Roy gasping and panting for breath, and Dudley every minute or two giving a shout, when suddenly almost as if he had risen from the ground, a lad appeared in front of them.
"We're lost," shouted Dudley; "who are you? Can you tell us where Crockton village is?"
"Ay, can't I! You're only about four mile off!"