Then the
children mounted their ponies and off they started, the idiot leading
the way on his own ragged pony, which he rode barebacked and with a
halter only for bridle; Dick came next, and then Elsie with the old
woman walking by her side. The mist was as thick as ever, but this
seemed to make no difference to the idiot, as he guided them up the
stream for a little distance and on over the rough yellow grass. The
ground was very deep and much cut by tiny clefts that carried the water
away from the bog, but the idiot went on straight and unconcerned as
though he were on a high road, though often his pony floundered
hock-deep. So on they went for a full hour with the mist whirling
about them, the children being kept warm in spite of the bitter cold
air, by their excitement, and by the constant scrambling of the ponies.
At last they reached firmer soil, but after travelling over it for a
little way the idiot stopped and held up his hand; and the children
listening with all their ears thought they made out the faint sound of
a horn. At a sign from his mother the idiot turned, and presently the
children found themselves going down hill and realised that the mist
was not so thick about them. A little further on they reached the edge
of a wood, where the idiot led his pony into a hollow and hobbled it,
and guided them into the trees on foot.
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