“Why, it’s two o’clock!” cried Percy presently, looking at his watch, and shivering at the same time.
“Put on your coat,” said Jeffreys; “the wind’s getting up a bit, and we shall have it in our faces going down.”
As they started to descend they became aware of a sudden change in the hitherto cloudless day. The western horizon, which had just now been unfolding its distant beauties, seemed lost in a fine haze, which spread north and south, blotting out one after another the glories of landscape on which they had scarcely ceased to feast their eyes.
“There’s a mist out there,” said Percy, as they scrambled down the boulders; “I hope to goodness it will keep away from us.”
“The wind is a little north-west; it may drive it south of us, but it is spreading at a great rate.”
“Never mind; it will be rather a joke if it comes. I could find the way down with my eyes shut, and I’ve often wanted to be in a regular fog up here,” said Percy.
“I don’t know what you feel,” responded Jeffreys; “but I’m rather glad we brought our coats. Isn’t it cold?”
The wind which met them seemed charged with cold, and after a while began to scatter a feathery sleet in their faces.
Percy whistled.
“We didn’t bargain for that, I say,” said he. “I hope it shuts up before we cross over the ledge down there.”