e himself would be pistolled, and nothing more ever heard
of him. Therefore he made his pony come to the mouth of it sideways,
and leaned over and peered in around the rocky corner, while the little
horse cropped at the briars.

But he soon perceived that the gully was empty, so far at least as its
course was straight; and with that he hastened into it, though his heart
was not working easily. When he had traced the winding hollow for half
a mile or more, he saw that it forked, and one part led to the left up
a steep red bank, and the other to the right, being narrow and slightly
tending downwards. Some yellow sand lay here and there between the
starving grasses, and this he examined narrowly for a trace of Master
Huckaback.

At last he saw that, beyond all doubt, the man he was pursuing had taken
the course which led down hill; and down the hill he must follow him.
And this John did with deep misgivings, and a hearty wish that he had
never started upon so perilous an errand. For now he knew not where he
was, and scarcely dared to ask himself, having heard of a horrible hole,
somewhere in this neighbourhood, called the Wizard's Slough. Therefore
John rode down the slope, with sorrow, and great caution. And these grew
more as he went onward, and his pony reared against him, being scared,
although a native of the roughest moorland. And John had just made up
his mind that God meant this for a warning, as the passage seemed darker
and deeper, when suddenly he turned a corner, and saw a scene which
stopped him.

For there was the Wizard's Slough itself, as black as death, and
bubbling, with a few scant yellow reeds in a ring around it. Outside
these, bright water-grass of the liveliest green was creeping, tempting
any unwary foot to step, and plunge, and founder. And on the marge
were blue campanula, sundew, and forget-me-not, such as no child could
resist. On either side, the hill fell back, and the ground was
broken with tufts of rush, and flag, and mares-tail, and a few rough
alder-trees overclogged with water. And not a bird was seen or heard,
neither rail nor water-hen, wag-tail nor reed-warbler.

Of this horrible quagmire, the worst upon all Exmoor, John had heard
from his grandfather, and even from his mother, when they wanted to keep
him quiet; but his father had feared to speak of it to him, being a man
of piety, and up to the tricks of the evil one. This made John the more
desirous to have a good look at it now