"If we hurry, though," he added, "I think we can reach old Donald Clearach's cottage before the mist gets near us."
All sail was now made downwards and homewards. But this meant meeting the mist!
In less than an hour, and while only a mile from the shepherd's hut, they were enveloped in so dense a fog that even Oscar was puzzled. Donald's hut stood on a bit of moorland, that, though far above the level of the sea, afforded excellent pasture for the sheep he tended.
Well, it is far more confusing to walk in a fog like this than in the dark of the darkest night, for one speedily loses his bearings, and owing to the muscles of the right side of the body being stronger than those of the left, the person who is lost usually walks round in a circle.
"What's to be done, boy?" said Nugent uneasily.
"Nothing, sir, but wrap our plaids about us and wait. Even Oscar could not guide us now."
Mr. Nugent smiled faintly, lit his pipe, and sat down.
The wind now began to get higher and higher, but it had no visible effect upon the fog.
The time went on and on, oh! so slowly, although Nugent continued to talk and tell of far-off lands beyond the seas.
Six o'clock, seven, eight o'clock, came and passed. But still no change. Creggan had a splendid plaid, and his companion a stout coat of frieze, but the wet, cold mist that went curling round their necks made them shiver and shudder.