As we sped along the ridge in the
afternoon I seemed to myself like a midge lost in a monstrous net. The
dank, dripping trees and the misty hills seemed to muffle and deaden
the world. I could not believe that they ever would end; that anywhere
there was a clear sky and open country. And I had always the feeling
that in those banks of vapour lurked deadly enemies who any moment
might steal out and encompass us.
But about four o'clock the weather lightened, and from the cock's-comb
on which we moved we looked down into the lower glens. I saw that we
had left the main flanks of the range behind us, and were now fairly on
a cape which jutted out beyond the other ridges. It behoved us now to
go warily, and where the thickets grew thin we moved like hunters, in
every hollow and crack that could shelter a man. Ringan led, and led
well, for he had not stalked the red deer on the braes of Breadalbane
for nothing. But no sign of life appeared in the green hollows on
either hand, neither in the meadow spaces nor by the creeks of the
growing streams. The world was dead silent; not even a bird showed in
the whole firmament.
Lower and lower we went, till the end of the ridge was before us, a
slope which melted into the river plains.
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