“Is that a house?” said Fred, stopping short, and pointing to a dark object just in front of them. “No, it’s a lake.”
“Nonsense, it’s a mountain.”
A few more steps, and Fred recoiled with a cry of horror. It was a precipice full a hundred feet deep—the dark abyss of which had assumed such varied aspects in their eyes!
A long détour followed, and they reached the foot in safety. Here the land became boggy.
Each step was an act fraught with danger, anxiety, and calculation. Whether they should step knee-deep into a hole full of water, or trip over a rounded mass of solid turf, was a matter of absolute uncertainty until the step was taken.
“Oh that we had only a gleam of moonshine,” said Lucy with a sigh. Moonshine! How often had George in the course of his life talked with levity, almost amounting to contempt, of things being “all a matter of moonshine!” What would he not have given to have had only a tithe of the things which surrounded him at that time converted into “moonshine!”
A feeble cheer from Fred caused an abrupt halt:—
“What is it?”
“Hallo!”
“What now?”