urney must yet be made. Looking at his
watch he resigned himself to wait, and leaned back with eyes closed
against the wall while a wet dog crouched at his feet. An hour or two
passed and then Tom got up.

"Snow's takin' off," he said. "We must try it."

Kit, pulling himself together, went out and faced the storm. The snow was
thinner, but the wind had not dropped and buffeted him savagely as he
struggled through a drift to the fold. The dogs had some trouble to drive
out the sheep, and when they straggled through the opening Kit imagined
the lambs went in front. In a few moments the flock vanished, and he
breathed hard as he followed their track up hill. Now and then the dogs
barked, but for the most part he heard nothing except the roar of the
wind in the crags. He hoped the dogs could find the path across the
narrow tableland between two branching ghylls, because it was obvious
that his judgment might be at fault. However, there were the lambs; one
could trust a Herdwick to return to its heaf.

When he reached the top the wind had blown away the snow, and he stood
near the middle of a narrow belt of heath, with his feet sinking in a
bog. On each side, he got a glimpse of dark rocks, streaked with white
where the wind had packed the snow into the gullies. In front there was a
gulf, down which his path led. Scattered snowflakes and rolling mist
streamed up from the forbidding hollow. At first he could see nothing of
the sheep, but as he floundered across the bog the dogs barked and he
found them presently, guarding the flock in a hollow among the crags.

The sheep broke away and Kit pushed on across the narrow belt of bog that
was dotted by the marks of little feet. Sometimes he slackened his pace
to wait for Tom; the shepherd was getting old and the long climb had
tired him. Both stopped for some moments when they reached the brow of
the descent, and Kit, bracing himself against the storm tried to look
about. He thought he saw the flock close in front.

"They seem doubtful where to go," he said.

"We can do nowt but leave them to find t' ghyll," the shepherd remarked.

Kit agreed. Bleatarn ghyll was beneath him, but there was another hollow
and it is hard to walk straight down hill in the dark. He must trust the
sheep, and, huddling close together, they refused to leave the crag. When
the dogs drove them out they vanished, and since the ground was bare of
snow they left no tracks. He stumbled on, falling into po