over. Tom put
up his head, looked all round, and perceiving nobody, proposed that we
should return as fast as we could; to which I agreed. But we were
scarcely clear of the furze in which we had been concealed when a heavy
fall of snow commenced, which, with the darkness, prevented us from
distinguishing our way. Every minute the snow-storm increased, the wind
rose, and hurled the flakes into our faces until we were blinded. Still
we made good way against it, and expected every minute to be on the
road, after which our task would be easy. On we walked in silence, I
carrying the gun, Tom with the hare over his shoulder, and Tommy at our
heels. For upwards of an hour did we tread our way through the furze,
but could find no road. Above us all was dark as pitch; the wind
howled; our clothes were loaded with snow; and we began to feel no
inconsiderable degree of fatigue.

At last, quite tired out, we stopped. "Tom," said I, "I'm sure we've
not kept a straight course. The wind was on our starboard side, and our
clothes were flaked with snow on that side, and now you see we've got it
in our quarter. What the devil shall we do?"

"We must go on till we fall in with something, at all events," replied
Tom.

"And I expect that will be a gravel-pit," replied I; "but never mind,
`better luck next time.' I only wish I had that rascal of a
common-keeper here. Suppose we turn back again, and keep the wind on
the starboard side of us as before; we must pitch upon something at
last."

We did so, but our difficulties increased every moment; we floundered in
the bogs, we tumbled over the stumps of the cut furze, and had I not
caught bold of Tom as he was sliding down he would have been at the
bottom of a gravel-pit. This obliged us to alter our course, and we
proceeded for a quarter of an hour, in another direction, until, worn
out with cold and fatigue, we began to despair.

"This will never do, Tom," said I, as the wind rose and roared with
double fury. "I think we had better get into the furze, and wait till
the storm is over."

Tom's teeth chattered with the cold; but before he could reply, they
chattered with fear. We heard a loud scream _overhead_. "What was
that?" cried he. I confess that I was as much alarmed as Tom. The
scream was repeated, and it had an unearthly sound. It was no human
voice--it was between a scream and a creak. Again it was repeated, and
carried along with the gale. I mustered up c