ked woods falling over us. For we were come to Bagworthy forest, the
blackest and the loneliest place of all that keep the sun out. Even
now, in winter-time, with most of the wood unriddled, and the rest of it
pinched brown, it hung around us like a cloak containing little comfort.
I kept quite close to Peggy's head, and Peggy kept quite close to me,
and pricked her ears at everything. However, we saw nothing there,
except a few old owls and hawks, and a magpie sitting all alone, until
we came to the bank of the hill, where the pony could not climb it.
Uncle Ben was very loath to get off, because the pony seemed company,
and he thought he could gallop away on her, if the worst came to
the worst, but I persuaded him that now he must go to the end of it.
Therefore he made Peggy fast, in a place where we could find her, and
speaking cheerfully as if there was nothing to be afraid of, he took his
staff, and I my gun, to climb the thick ascent.

There was now no path of any kind; which added to our courage all it
lessened of our comfort, because it proved that the robbers were not in
the habit of passing there. And we knew that we could not go astray,
so long as we breasted the hill before us; inasmuch as it formed the
rampart, or side-fence of Glen Doone. But in truth I used the right word
there for the manner of our ascent, for the ground came forth so steep
against us, and withal so woody, that to make any way we must throw
ourselves forward, and labour as at a breast-plough. Rough and loamy
rungs of oak-root bulged here and there above our heads; briers needs
must speak with us, using more of tooth than tongue; and sometimes bulks
of rugged stone, like great sheep, stood across us. At last, though very
loath to do it, I was forced to leave my gun behind, because I required
one hand to drag myself up the difficulty, and one to help Uncle Reuben.
And so at last we gained the top, and looked forth the edge of the
forest, where the ground was very stony and like the crest of a quarry;
and no more trees between us and the brink of cliff below, three hundred
yards below it might be, all strong slope and gliddery. And now far the
first time I was amazed at the appearance of the Doones's stronghold,
and understood its nature. For when I had been even in the valley, and
climbed the cliffs to escape from it, about seven years agone, I was no
more than a stripling boy, noting little, as boys do, except for their
present purpose, and