The stream
grew smaller and smaller, and Dick hugged himself with the idea that
when it disappeared altogether they would be able to travel faster.
But, on the contrary, the ground grew worse instead of better, for
water underground makes worse foothold than water flowing honestly
above, and very soon they lost all sense of their direction in the
difficulty of keeping the ponies on their legs at all. At last after
several very unpleasant struggles they luckily found their way out of
the worst of the bog; but there seemed to be no end to the tract of
mixed grass and heather, which is always treacherous to ride over; and
the ponies were constantly in difficulties. Then to Dick's joy at last
they came upon tracks of a horse or pony, and there was something to
guide them, though it was very often difficult to find and follow it.
They wandered on, however, until Dick's eye caught the gleam of silver,
and there lay his lost whip; so that, after all their riding, they had
but wandered round and round and come back to the place from which they
had started.
Poor Elsie, who was getting very tired, was very much disheartened, but
Dick choked down his vexation and disappointment, for it was at any
rate something for him to recover his whip, which he valued greatly.
Stonecrop was too much blown now to give much trouble, so he jumped off
and picked it up safely, and then he and Elsie held a long
consultation, and at last agreed to make straight for a high hill
towards which the sun was sinking.
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