I strove to find another hillock, but I seemed now to be in a flat space of bog.

I could only grope blindly forwards away from the moss-hole, hoping that soon I might come to a lift in the hill.
Suddenly from the distance of about half a mile there fell on my ears the most hideous wailing.

It was like the cats on a frosty night; it was like the clanging of pots in a tinker's cart; and it would rise now and then to a shriek of rhapsody such as I have heard at field-preachings.
Clearly the sound was human, though from what kind of crazy human creature I could not guess.

Had I been less utterly forwandered and the night less wild, I think I would have sped away from it as fast as my legs had carried me.

But I had little choice.