Not an inch would the donkey stir; and the man with a laugh, slipped a halter out of his pocket and in another minute Roy was rolling on the grass, and the donkey was being led off in the opposite direction.

“You may think yourselves lucky to escape the thrashing ye desarves!” shouted out the man; “ye’ve given me a nice chase after my beast for the last hour, and ye needn’t add a pack of lies to your wicked pranks!”

The boys sat down on the grass to consider their position.

“Well, I call it beastly rot,” grumbled Dudley, thoroughly cross; “if that’s his donkey I don’t believe old Roger’s is on the hills at all.  It must have been this one that somebody saw, and now I come to think of it Roger’s has a black stripe down her back, and this one hadn’t!”

“I’m so awfully tired,” said Roy, disconsolately; “we’ve done no good as usual.  I don’t believe we ever shall do any one any good!”

When Roy’s spirits sank it was a bad case, and for some minutes there was silence between them.  Then feeling they must make the best of it they scrambled to their feet and plodded slowly on in the direction of home.  A heavy mist was falling by this time, and dusk was setting in.  Roy began to cough, and at last in despair Dudley cried out, “I do believe we’re lost; I don’t know where the path is, and I’m sure this isn’t the way we came!”

“Well,” said Roy, gasping as he spoke; “I’m afraid this old mist is getting into my chest, and I can’t go very fast when my breath gets short.  What shall we do?  Can you shout—­p’raps that man with the donkey might hear us.”

Dudley shouted and shouted till he was hoarse, and then the little fellows trudged wearily on.

“You see,” said Roy, bravely; “we must get somewhere if we go straight on.”

“I believe,” said Dudley, in doleful tones; “that you get right round the world and come back to where you started, if you only walk straight enough!”

This depressing view did not comfort his cousin.

“I’ve always thought it would be very exciting to be lost,” Roy said with a sigh; “but it doesn’t seem very nice, does it?  And it is so cold.  I wonder if we shall meet with any adventures, lost people generally do.”

“If we could come into a gipsies’ camp with a huge fire and a pot of stewed hares, it would be stunning!  Or if we could find old Principle’s cave, that would be better still!”

They were stumbling on, Roy gasping and panting for breath, and Dudley every minute or two giving a shout, when suddenly almost as if he had risen from the ground, a lad appeared in front of them.

“We’re lost,” shouted Dudley; “who are you?  Can you tell us where Crockton village is?”

“Ay, can’t I!  You’re only about four mile off!”

“Is it straight on?” questioned Roy, wistfully.

“No, you’re goin’ away from it.”

The lad stood looking down at the two small boys and there was some pity in his tone.