Here the undergrowth was very thick, and they had gone the better part of half a mile before the covert thinned sufficiently to show them the stream beneath.

Then Dougal halted them with a finger on his lips, and crept forward alone.
He returned in three minutes.

"Coast's clear," he whispered.

"The tinklers are eatin' their breakfast.

They're late at their meat though they're up early seekin' it." Progress was now very slow and secret, and mainly on all fours.