A little later, to their consternation, clouds began to gather. It was no longer possible to follow a course by the stars. It became darker, and prominent objects could not be distinguished. All around there were untilled fields, as like each other as peas in a pod.
Half an hour's wandering convinced the fugitives that they were hopelessly out of their bearings, for the wind had fallen utterly, and even that means of keeping a rough course failed them.
"Ten to one we're walking in a big circle," declared Rollo. "The best thing we can do is to slow down till dawn."
"Another seven hours," objected the Fusilier. "We'll be dead with cold by that time. Let's step out and trust to luck."
"There's a barn or something, right ahead," announced Kenneth after they had traversed two fields. "I vote we make for that and take shelter."
The building was a detached one. Closer investigation showed that it was deserted. The door had been wrenched from its hinges and lay about five yards from the wall. In one angle of the brickwork was a gaping hole. The walls had been loopholed for rifle-fire, but the thatched roof was practically intact.
"Steady!" cautioned the British corporal. "There might be somebody inside."
He led the way, shuffling noiselessly with his feet and holding his arm in a position of defence. Having completed a tour of the interior, he announced that it was safe to enter.
The floor was dry, but destitute of hay or straw. Taking off his peasant's cloak the corporal spread it upon the ground, and on it the three huddled together for mutual warmth. Already Kenneth and Rollo were weak with hunger, cold, and fatigue. Their companion's chief regret was that he had no tobacco. Hunger, although severe, was with him a secondary consideration.
In this position they remained in a semi-dazed condition until the Northumberland man announced that dawn was breaking.