"Ah! Now what are we to do?"
"I couldn't say, my lord, having no experience. Has the—er—phenomenon any habits, my lord?"
"No regular habits, I believe. Sometimes it moves. Other times it stays in one place for days. We can wait all night, and see if it lifts at daybreak."
"Yes, my lord. It is unhappily somewhat damp."
"Somewhat—as you say," agreed his lordship, with a short laugh.
Bunter sneezed, and begged pardon politely.
"If we go on going south-east," said his lordship, "we shall get to Grider's Hole all right, and they'll jolly well have to put us up for the night—or give us an escort. I've got my torch in my pocket, and we can go by compass—oh, hell!"
"My lord?"
"I've got the wrong stick. This beastly ash! No compass, Bunter—we're done in."
"Couldn't we keep on going downhill, my lord?"