It was a raw, damp morning and the day struggled up with difficulty. Ian was very tired as it was long since he had made any continuous physical effort and, anxious as he was to make progress, he felt that he must rest. He sat down by a stream and opened his wallet and broke his fast, while he thought out what would be the best road for him to take. So far he had been sure of the way from Audry’s description, but he was a little more doubtful about his ability to find the route further on and yet, if possible, he did not wish to ask questions of any one he met. He was just able to distinguish the sun rising through the mist and hoped that the day would brighten. From this he calculated that the wind which was very steady was from the northwest. He knew that, when they were hunting him before, a description of him had been sent as far as Alston and Kirkoswald; so he determined to try and reach Carlisle without going through these places. In Carlisle people had more things to think about; and the incident of his escape, even if news of it had travelled so far, would by this time be forgotten. Moreover a stranger in the great border town would not arouse any curiosity. He therefore decided that he would keep along by the highest ground following the ridge of summits. This he knew would ultimately bring him to Cold Fell, where the drop on every side is very marked and whence, if he had not seen Carlisle itself before, he could drop down by Naworth or Brampton. After a long rest he turned up the steep. Unfortunately the mist, instead of lifting, grew thicker until he had nothing to guide him but the wind and the general lie of the ground. Used as he was to the hills, he always felt the eeriness of the mist seething and curling and scurrying over the heather. It was bitterly cold as the wind was strong and the mist grew so thick that he could only see the ground for a few paces. He was afraid of coming suddenly upon the precipice of some corrie or cross-gully. He had heard too of the terrible “pot” holes in the limestone district, and pictured himself falling down into one of those black bottomless chimneys, where even his body would never be seen again. He decided to strike straight up for the top, even though it was more fatiguing, and he followed the steepest line of the ground, scrambling over the rocks where necessary. He started violently as he suddenly heard the scream of an eagle somewhere near him in the mist, and later on he was surprised actually to come upon one tearing the body of a grouse. The great bird rose and hit him, whether intentionally or not he was not sure, but he shrank involuntarily and the sight of the small mangled victim stirred his heart. “Why was the world of birds and men so essentially cruel?” “Poor little Aline,” he thought, as he looked at the little bird.