So they strolled along in the middle of the winding road for nearly a couple of miles, then an open gate into an unfamiliar field invited them, and, they went in and crossed it. Paul climbed and Thor leapt the gate into the next. There were sheep in that field, but Thor resisted temptation, and rested quietly with his master under the shade of an elm. On again across more fields, meeting with no adventures whatsoever. All the trolls, giants, witches, lions, pirates, knights and princesses seemed to have remained indoors or underground that morning. A man shouted at them once, but he was too far off to discover whether his words were friendly or the reverse. Previous experience, however, led Paul to believe they were in some way "be off out of that-ish!" and he hurried away in an opposite direction. His feet ached and the soles of his shoes felt very thin. He decided that the moment they struck the road again he’d make for the very first house in sight and ask for some water for both of them. At last they reached a field bordered by a road. They pushed through a gap in the hedge and found themselves not far from four cross roads and a church. Paul made for the church, for as a rule where churches are, houses are not far off—and, sure enough, right opposite the church gate was one that led into somebody’s drive with an exceedingly trim lodge on the left-hand side. He paused, undecided for a moment whether to go round to the back door, which would be certain to be open, and ask for water from the lady of the lodge, or go right up the drive and see what the people of the house were like. If he went to the back and rapped with his knuckles a woman would come out—he was sure of that. She might be washing; she might be displeased at the interruption; she would be almost certain to disapprove of Thor. He decided to go up to the house. Here, as everywhere else that morning, there was not a soul in sight and it was very still. The sun was high in the heavens, and the great lawns in front of the house stretched almost shadowless—green and shaven and smooth. It was a pretty house: irregular, long and low, covered with creepers, with sloping roofs, clustering chimneys, and kindly-looking gables—a restful house, Paul thought wistfully. Would they let him go in and sit a bit? The open, front door was hooded by a deep sunblind, but he peeped underneath and beheld a cool dark hall, absolutely untenanted; and here, too, the same soft, all-pervading silence. It was very hot out on the gravel drive; there seemed no shadows anywhere. Even a cedar-tree on the far side of a wide lawn, though it looked dark and cool, threw hardly any shade. Thor’s tongue was hanging out, and he turned his beautiful grave eyes on his master with the clear question, "How long are we to stand here?" Presently Paul became conscious of a faint sound: a sharp, irregular, clipped sort of sound, that was neither a tap nor a click, but a cross between the two.