Will pressed his hands tightly over Josh's mouth, for he could feel him heaving and swaying about as if he were about to explode. "Blows up this valley sometimes," continued the artist, "just like a hurricane." "Pouf!" went Josh, for Will's efforts were all in vain. "Ah-h-ah! I knew it!" cried the artist, springing to his feet in a rage. "You dogs! I see you!" It was the truth the next moment, for Josh rushed off to get into safety, closely followed by Will, whilst their victim gave chase. Hunted creatures somehow in their hurry to escape pursuit, have a natural inclination for taking the wrong route, the one which leads them into danger when they are seeking to be safe. It was so here. Josh led, and Will naturally followed; but his comrade might have gone round by the mill, run for the stepping-stones, where he could have crossed and made for the rough hiding-places known to him on the other side of the stream; or he might have dodged for the garden-gate, darted through, and made for the zig-zag path leading to the open moorland; but instead of this, he dashed down to the waterside, ran along by it, and then took the ascending path right up the glen, getting more and more out of breath, and with Will panting heavily close behind. "Oh, you chucklehead!" cried the latter, huskily. "Why did you come along here? You knew we couldn't go far." "It's all right. He won't follow. He'll be tired directly; he's so fat." "I don't care," cried Will, stealing a look over his shoulder; "fat or thin, he's coming along as hard as he can pelt." "Yes, but he's about done." "He isn't, I tell you; he's coming faster than you can go. Go along: look sharp!" The boys ran on, Josh getting more and more breathless every moment, while he began to lose heart as he heard the artist shouting to him to stop. "Here, Will," he cried, "which way had I better go? Up the long crack, or make for the fox's path?" "One's as bad as the other," cried Will. "Fox's path. Here, go on faster. Let me lead; I know the way best. I never saw such an old chucklehead. Why did you come this way?" He brushed by his companion as he spoke, his legs making a whishing sound as he tore through clumps of fern and brake, running on and on over the rapidly-rising ground till the path was at an end, and they drew closer to a spot where the rocks closed in, forming a _cul de sac_, unless they were willing to take a leap of some twenty feet into a deep pool, or climb up the rocky wall just in front. "We can't jump," panted Will. "No," half whispered Josh. "Oh, what a mess we are in! You will have to beg his pardon, Will." "You'll have to hold your tongue, or else we shall be caught. It's all right; come on. I can get up here."