A smart shower of rain speedily induced them to change their minds in this respect. Seeking shelter under the projecting ledge of a great cliff, the party stood for some time there in silence. "You are cold, my pet," said Mr Sudberry. "Just a little, papa; I could not help shuddering," said Lucy, faintly. "Now for the brandy," said her father, drawing forth the flask. "Suppose I try to kindle a fire," said George, swinging the bundle containing Jacky off his shoulder, and placing it in a hollow of the rocks. "Well, suppose you try." George proceeded to do so; but on collecting a few broken twigs he found that they were soaking wet, and on searching for the match-box he discovered that it had been left in the provision-basket, so they had to content themselves with a sip of brandy all round--excepting Jacky. That amiable child was still sound asleep; but in a few minutes he was heard to utter an uneasy squall, and then George discovered that he had deposited part of his rotund person in a puddle of water. "Come, let us move on," said Mr Sudberry, "the rain gets heavier. It is of no use putting off time, we cannot be much damper than we are." Again the worthy man was mistaken; for, in the course of another hour, they were all so thoroughly drenched, that their previous condition might have been considered, by contrast, one of absolute dryness. Suddenly, a stone wall, topped by a paling, barred their further progress. Fred, who was in advance, did not see this wall--he only felt it when it brought him up. "Here's a gate, I believe," cried George, groping about. It _was_ a gate, and it opened upon the road! For the first time for many hours a gleam of hope burst in upon the benighted wanderers. Presently a ray of light dazzled them. "What! do my eyes deceive me--a cottage?" cried Mr Sudberry. "Ay, and a witch inside," said George. "Why, it's old--no, impossible!" "Yes, it is, though--it's old Moggy's cottage." "Hurrah!" cried Fred. Old Moggy's dog came out with a burst of indignation that threatened annihilation to the whole party; but, on discovering who they were, it crept humbly back into the cottage. "Does she never go to bed?" whispered George, as they approached and found the old woman moping over her fire, and swaying her body to and fro, with the thin dirty gown clinging close to her figure, and the spotlessly clean plaid drawn tightly round her shoulders. "Good-evening, old woman," said Mr Sudberry, advancing with a conciliatory air. "It's mornin'," retorted the old woman with a scowl. "Alas! you are right; here have we been lost on the hills, and wandering all night; and glad am I to find your fire burning, for my poor daughter is very cold and much exhausted. May we sit down beside you?" No reply, save a furtive scowl. "What's that?" asked Moggy, sharply, as George deposited his dirty wet bundle on the floor beside the fire opposite to her.