That morning we hid in a clump of evergreens, thick enough to make a good shelter, but too short for comfort, for we could not stand up!  Ted was having a bad time with his feet, for his improvised socks did not work well.  They twisted and knotted and gave him great discomfort.  This day he removed his undershirt, which was of wool, and, cutting it into strips five or six inches wide, wound them round and round his feet, and then put his boots on.  He had more comfort after that, but as the weather was cold the loss of his shirt was a serious one.

That night we came to a river, which we knew to be the Hunte, and looked about for a means of crossing it.  We knew enough to keep away from bridges, but a boat would have looked good to us.  However, there did not seem to be any boat, and we decided to swim it without loss of time, for this was a settled district, and therefore not a good place to hesitate.

On account of our last experience in crossing a river, we knew a raft to carry our clothes on would keep them dry and make it easier for us.  So, failing to find any stuff with which to make a raft, we thought of a gate we had passed a short time back.  It was a home-made affair, made of a big log on the top, whose heavy root balanced the gate on the post on which it swung.  We went back, found it, and lifted it off, and although it was a heavy carry, we got it to the river, and, making two bundles of our clothes, floated them over on it.  I swam ahead, pushing it with one hand, while Ted shoved from behind.  Our clothes were kept dry, and we dragged the gate up on the bank.  We hope the farmer found it, and also hope he thought it was an early Hallowe’en joke!

That day, August 31st, we took refuge in the broom, which was still showing its yellow blossom, and, as the, sun came out occasionally, we lit our pipes with Ted’s sun-glass.  The sun and wind dried our tobacco and our socks, and we started off that night feeling rather better.

It was a fine night for our purpose, for there was considerable wind, and we kept going all night, mostly on the roads.  At daylight we took refuge in an open wood.  The day was cloudy and chilly, and we found it long.  At night, we had not gone far when we found three cows in a small field.  We used all our blandishments on them, but the lanky one with straight horns was unapproachable and aloof in her manner, and would not let us near her.  One of the others was quiet enough, but was nearly dry.  The third one was the best, and we filled and drank, and filled and drank, until her supply was exhausted too.  On account of the field being near the house, we were careful not to let the stream of milk make a sound in the empty can, so left some milk in the can each time, to deaden the sound.  However, the owners of the cows were safe in bed, and asleep.  We wondered if they would think the cows were bewitched when they found they would give nothing next morning!