ightful death. For
so nearly perpendicular were the sides of this curious partition, that
the narrow valley below, offering no temptation to any one to visit it,
had not, within the memory of man, been trodden by any human foot. To
add to the honour inspired by the Razor, a shepherd had recently fallen
from it in a summer storm; his body had been abandoned as unrecoverable,
and the ravens and wild cats had fed upon him. Something--a dim gleam
of uncertain white among the rank grass--was yet visible from one point
of the ledge, and the bravest mountaineer shuddered when, looking down
the gloomy chasm, he recognised in that glimpse the mortal remains of a
fellow-man.

"Are you sure that we are on the right path, Walter?" asked Power,
trying to speak as cheerfully and indifferently as he could.

"Certain," said Walter, pulling out of his pocket the little brass
pocket-compass which had been his invariable companion in his rambles at
home, and which he had fortunately brought with him as likely to be
useful in the lonely tracts which surrounded Saint Winifred's. "The bay
lies due west from here, and I'm sure of the _general_ direction."

"But I think we're keeping too much to the right, Walter," said Kenrick.

"Look here," said Walter, stopping; "the truth is--and we may just as
well be ready for it--that we're between two dangers. On the right is
Bardlyn rift; on the left we have the sides of Appenfell, and no
precipices, but--"

"I know what you're thinking of--the old mines."

"Yes; that's why I've been keeping to the right. I think even in this
mist we could hardly go over the rift, for I fancy that we could at
least discover when we were getting close to it; but there are three or
four old mines; we don't knew in the least where they lie exactly, and
one might stumble over one of the shafts in a minute."

"What in the world shall we do?" said Power, stopping, as he realised
the full intensity of peril. "As it is we can't see where we're going,
and very soon we shall have darkness as well as mist. Besides, it's so
frightfully cold, now that we are obliged to go slowly."

"Let's stop and consider what we'd best do," said Kenrick. "Walter,
what do _you_ say?"

"We can only do one of two things. Either go on, and trust to God's
mercy to keep us safe, or sit still here and hope that the mist may
clear away."

"That last'll never do," answered Kenrick; "I've seen the mist rest on
Appenfell for days and