It was only when they reached a point in the moor from whence the ground
sloped sharply downward towards the Glen that they awoke to the
consciousness of danger, for instead of a rolling stretch of green
surrounded by purple hills, they seemed to be looking down into a
cauldron of floating mist and steam, blocking out the view, confusing
the eyes, and slowly but surely concealing the familiar landmarks.
Margot and the Editor stopped short with simultaneous exclamations of
dismay, then wheeled quickly round, to see what lay behind. Here indeed
the fog was much less dense, but the distance was already obliterated,
while long, smoke-like tendrils of mist were closing in on every hand.
The signs which they had noted had portended something worse than rain;
something which the dwellers in moorland regions learn to fear and dread
above all other phenomena,--a mountain mist!
George Elgood's face was eloquent with self-reproach.
"This is my fault! Where were my eyes, that I did not see what was
happening? The darkness should have warned me long ago. I am horribly
ashamed of myself, Miss Vane!"
"You needn't be. It's as much my fault as yours. I did notice the damp
on my face, but I thought it was rain. What are we to do?"
It was a simple question, but terribly difficult to answer. With every
moment those rolling masses of mist settled down more densely over the
hillsides. To walk forward was to walk blindfold over a treacherous
country; to return seemed hardly more propitious, though as a choice of
evils it was the one to be preferred.
"We must go back. We can't have come more than two or three miles. We
must get back, and drive round by the road. Probably we shall meet
Geoffrey and your brother en route!"
Even as he spoke the Editor turned and led the way towards the little
village which had been left behind less than an hour before. There was
no time to waste, for the darkness was increasing, and the clammy
dankness of the air struck to the very marrow.
"I shall never forgive myself if you suffer through this. It was my
business to look after you. There's only this slight excuse--that we
were mounting towards the highest part of the moor, which was naturally
the clearest. The mist seems to have gathered from all around."
Margaret looked and shivered, but hastened to appease his anxiety.
"I think we did notice, but as we were expecting rain, a little
mistiness was natural. We could not tell that it was going to spread
like this. Never mind! It will be quite an adventure to brag about
when we are back in town. `Lost on the Scotch moors! Tourists
disappear in a mist!' It would make a thrilling headline, wouldn't it?"