Chilled to the bone, worn out with long fatigue, sinking to the knees in mire, onward they marched to destruction.

One by one the weary peasants fell off from their ranks to sleep, and die in the rain-soaked moor, or to seek some house by the wayside wherein to hide till daybreak.

One by one at first, then in gradually increasing numbers, at every shelter that was seen, whole troops left the waning squadrons, and rushed to hide themselves from the ferocity of the tempest.

To right and left nought could be descried but the broad expanse of the moor, and the figures of their fellow-rebels, seen dimly through the murky night, plodding onwards through the sinking moss.

Those who kept together--a miserable few--often halted to rest themselves, and to allow their lagging comrades to overtake them.