Cecilia said that she would lead the animal, so we started to go down the long hill, which was so very steep I thought I should never reach the bottom. Cecilia seemed to think nothing of it. 'You can do it quite well, Mrs. MacGill,' she said. 'Well,' I replied, 'if a creature with four feet, like that pony, can tumble so, how do you suppose that I, on two, can do it easily?' My velvet mantle, though warm, is very heavy, and my right knee was still extremely painful. It now began to rain a little, and the sky got very dark, which, I remember, the books say is always a prelude to one of those terrific storms which apparently sweep across Dartmoor in a moment. 'If it rains,' I said, 'the river always rises. "Dart is up," as they say, and we shall never reach home alive.' Cecilia declared in her stupid way that we were nowhere near the Dart. 'Why are we on Dartmoor, then?' I asked. 'I have read everywhere that the river runs with appalling velocity, and sweeps on in an angry torrent, carrying away trees and houses like straw; there are no trees, but those small houses down there would be swept away in no time. If we can only get down to the village, and get something to eat, and a carriage to take us home in, I shall be thankful!' Cecilia appeared uncertain as to whether we could get any means of conveyance at the inn, so I suggested that we should just walk on. 'Nothing,' I said,'shall make me try to go back with that animal. Our lives were in danger when she sat down. I am sure that they must have a quieter horse of some kind, in such a lonely place.'