They had long since left the low lands, where trees and bushes bordered the stream, and were in a lonely valley where the hills came down close to the little stream, which sparkled among the boulders at their feet. The slopes were covered with a crop of short wiry grass through which the gray stone projected here and there. Tiny rills of water made their way down the hillside to swell the stream, and the tinge of brown which showed up wherever these found a level sufficient to form a pool told that they had their source in the bogs on the moorland above. Tompkins looked round him rather disconcertedly. “I don't know,” he said. “It's a beastly long way to walk round; but suppose we got lost in trying to make our way across the hills.” “Well, just as you like,” Ned said, “I am game to walk back the way we came or to try and make a straight cut, only mind don't you turn round and blame me afterward. You take your choice; whichever you vote for I am ready to do.” “My shoes are beginning to rub my heels,” Tompkins said, “so I will take the shortest way and risk it. I don't see we can go far out of our way.” “I don't see that we can,” Ned replied. “Marsden lies to the east, so we have only to keep our backs to the sun; it won't be down for another two hours yet, and before that we ought to be in.” By this time they had taken their rods to pieces, wound up their lines, and were ready to start. A few minutes' sharp climbing took them to the top of the slope. They were now upon the moor, which stretched away with slight undulations as far as they could see. “Now,” Ned said, “we will make for that clump of rocks. They seem to be just in the line we ought to take, and by fixing our eyes upon them we shall go straight.” This, however, was not as easy to do as Ned had fancied; the ground was in many places so soft and boggy that they were forced to make considerable detours. Nevertheless the rocks served as a beacon, and enabled them to keep the right direction; but although they made their way at the best of their speed it was an hour after starting before they approached the rock. When they were within fifty yards of it a figure suddenly rose. It was that of a boy some fifteen years of age. “Goa back,” he shouted; “dang yer, what be'est a cooming here vor?” The two boys stopped astonished. “We are going to Marsden,” Ned replied; “but what's that to you?” “Doan't ee moind wot it be to oi,” the boy said; “oi tell ee ee can't goa no further; yoi've got ter go back.” “We shan't go back,” Ned said; “we have got as much right to go this way as you have. This is not your land; and if it is, we ain't hurting it.” By this time they were at the foot of the pile of rocks, and the lad was standing some ten feet above them. “Oi tell ee,” he repeated doggedly, “yoi've got vor to go back.”