ou
blubbering about?"

"My feet are so cold; they hurt dreadfully."

"Oh, never mind," Dick said. "Come, boys, push along, and we shall soon
be home."

Again they started with heads bent to face the storm.

"It is getting dark awfully fast," Tom Jackson said.

"It is, and no mistake. Come, let us have a trot. Come on, young one."

But, although Dick spoke hopefully, he was not as confident as he
appeared. He was sure now that they had lost the way. They might not,
he hoped, be far off the track; but he knew that they were not following
the precise line by which they came.

It was now nearly dark. The snow was falling thicker than ever, and the
ground, except upon the uplands exposed to the full force of the wind,
was covered with a white mantle.

On arriving at the bottom of a steep hill, they stopped again.

"Do you know where we are, Tom?"

"Not in the least," Tom answered.

"This ought to be the last valley," Dick said, "and after one more climb
we ought to go straight down into Castleton. Don't you remember in that
valley there were a lot of sheep in a fold, with a wall round it? If we
can find that, we shall know that we are right. It is near the bottom,
so we shall not miss it. Which way shall we turn, left or right?"

"Let us try the left first," Tom said.

They walked for half a mile, gradually ascending.

"It is not this way," Tom said at last. "We are getting to the head of
the valley. What are you doing, James?" as the young boy, who had been
sobbing for some time, threw himself on the snow.

"I cannot go any farther," he murmured. "I am so cold, and so tired,
and so sleepy."

"Oh, nonsense!" Dick said. "Here, take hold of his arm, Tom, and lift
him up; give him a good shake; he must go on; he would die if he stopped
here."

The two lads raised the younger boy, and half-supporting half-dragging
him turned and retraced their footsteps.

It was pitch dark now, and they could not see a yard before them. For
some time they continued their way.

"There is no shepherd's hut. Certainly, this is not the valley. What
on earth are we to do?"

"I don't know," Tom said, beginning to cry.

"Shut up, Tom Jackson. What are you thinking about? This is no time
for howling like a baby; you have got to think of what is best to do.
It is no use climbing the next hill, for we might be going away from
home, instead of getting nearer. Besides, we should have to haul Jimmy
up, for he