e!"

Suddenly they heard far above them a shout of "Hullo!" Both the children
started up and looked about them. It was like father's voice, but they
couldn't see him anywhere.

"Where are you, father?"

"Hullo!" again. And this time it sounded much nearer to them. Where
could it be? The children began to run about and look behind the bushes
and the rocks, till all of a sudden, just as Milly got near a big rock,
out jumped Mr. Norton from behind it with a great shout, and began to
run after her. Away ran Milly and Olly as fast as their small feet could
carry them, up and down, up and down, till at last there came a steep
place--one of Milly's feet tripped up, down she went, rolling over and
over--down came Olly on the top of her, and the two of them rolled away
together till they stopped at the bottom of the steep place, all mixed
up in a heap of legs and arms and hats and pinafores.

"Here's a boy and girl tied up in a knot," said Mr. Norton, scrambling
down after them and lifting them up. "There's no harm done, is there?"

"I've got a bump on my arm," said Milly, turning up her sleeve.

"And I've got a scratch on my nose," said Olly, rubbing it.

"That's not much for a nice tumble like that," said Mr. Norton, "you
wouldn't mind another, would you, Milly?"

"Not a bit," said Milly, merrily skipping along beside him. "Hide again,
father."

"Another day, not now, for we want to get to Aunt Emma's. But tomorrow,
if you like, we'll come up here and have a capital game. Only we must
choose a nice dry place where there are no bogs."

"What are bogs?" asked Olly.

"Wet places, where your feet go sinking deeper and deeper into the mud,
and you can't find any stiff firm bit to stand on. Sometimes people sink
down and down into a bog till the mud comes right over their head and
face and chokes them; but we haven't got any bogs as bad as that here.
Now, children, step along in front. Very soon we shall get to the top of
the mountain, and then we shall see wonderful things on the other side."

So Milly and Olly ran on, pushing their way through the great tall fern,
or scampering over the short green grass where the little mountain sheep
were nibbling, and where a beautiful creeping moss grew all over the
ground, which, mother told Milly, was called "Stags' horn moss," because
its little green branches were so like stags' horns.

"Now look, children," shouted their father to them from behind. "Here we
are at the top."