"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 days." "Besides," said Power, "unless we move on, at all hazards, night will be on us. A December night on Appenfell, without food or extra coverings, and the chance of being kept indefinitely longer--" the sentence ended in a shudder. "Yes; I don't know what we should look like in the morning," said Kenrick. "Let's move on, at all events; better that than the chance of being frozen and starved to death." They moved on again a little way through the clouds with uncertain and hesitating steps, when suddenly Walter cried out in an agitated voice, "Stop! God only knows where we are. I feel by a kind of instinct that we're somewhere near the rift. I don't know what else should make me tremble all over as I am doing; I seem to _hear_ the rift somehow. For God's sake stop. Just let's sit down a minute till I try something." "But's it's now nearly four o'clock," said Kenrick in a querulous tone, as he halted and pulled out his watch, holding it close to his face to make out the time. "An hour more and all daylight will be gone, and with it all chance of being saved. Surely, we'd better press on. That's _uncertain_ danger, but to stop is certain--" "Certain death," whispered Power.