“Which way do we go?” asked Cottle presently.
“I suppose up by the stream. It’s bound to lead up to the bog.”
The stream in question was a torrent which fell in a series of leaps through a narrow gorge in the rocks.
Fisher minor looked very blue.
“I wish I’d got my strong boots,” said he.
The dismal tone in which he uttered the words startled the others.
“I say, young Fisher,” said D’Arcy, “you’re not done yet, are you!”
Fisher minor had not the pluck to say “Yes.”
“I’ll be game after this rest. I got a little blown up that last bit, that’s all.”
“It doesn’t look awfully far now,” said Ashby.