Presently we came near water, as I judged by the sound, which was that of a beck murmuring among stones. On went my conductor, following the water-course, and so rapidly that I had difficulty in keeping up with him. When he leaped on a stone or scrambled up a turf-hummock, so as to stand against the horizon, where a feeble light still lingered, I could distinguish the horrible contortions of his body, and the sight invariably heightened my uneasiness.
Suddenly I missed him!
I called—but there was no reply! I stood still and listened, but heard nothing save the bubbling of the stream, and, far, far away, the to-whoo of an owl.
Noiselessly a bat fluttered past me, coming instantaneously out of the blackness of the night, and vanishing back into it as instantaneously.
"I say, you fellow!" hallooed I to the vanishing guide.
"You fellow!" answered the scaurs of Penigent, in a lower key.
"To-whoo," faintly called the owl.
"What do you mean by deserting me like this?" I roared.
"Like this," muttered the echo. "To-whoo," responded the owl.
"I must follow the beck," I said; "that will lead me to the river, and the river will guide me to some habitation of living man."
"Living man," growled the echo. "To-whoo," sang the owl.
I stumbled over the water-worn stones, and splashed into water. My ankles were scarified, my shins bruised; I narrowly escaped breaking my bones as I fell again and again. I did not dare leave the stream, lest I should lose my way.
Then a nightjar began to hiss from among the rocks, and the stream to dash along more wildly. The banks rose
