“Well,” said Uncle Dick, “I think we had better go forward. I’m not very learned over the topography of the district, but if I’m not much mistaken that round hill or mountain before us is Dome Tor.”
“Well?” said Uncle Jack.
“Well, I propose that we make straight for it, go over it, and then ask our way to the nearest town or village where there is a railway-station, and ride back.”
“Capital!” I cried.
“Whom will you ask to direct us?” said Uncle Jack dryly.
“Ah! To be sure,” said Uncle Bob. “I’ve seen nothing but a sheep or two for hours, and they look so horribly stupid I don’t think it is of any use to ask them.”
“Oh! We must meet some one if we keep on,” said Uncle Dick. “What do you say? Seems a pity not to climb that hill now we are so near.”
“Yes, as we are out for a holiday,” said Uncle Bob. “After to-day we must put our necks in the collar and work. I vote for Dick.”
“So do I,” said Uncle Jack.
“Come along then, boys,” cried Uncle Dick; and now we set ourselves steadily to get over the ground, taking as straight a line as we could, but having to deviate a good deal on account of streams and bogs and rough patches of stone. But it was a glorious walk, during which there was always something to examine; and at last we felt that we were steadily going up the great rounded mass known as Dome Tor.