I turned to the right, my intention being if I saw the light of a house to return, and with Peter take the other direction.
I walked like a blind man in that nether-pit of darkness.

The road seemed well kept, and the soft wet gravel muffled the sounds of my feet.

Great trees overhung it, and several times I wandered into dripping bushes.

And then I stopped short in my tracks, for I heard the sound of whistling.
It was quite close, about ten yards away.

And the strange thing was that it was a tune I knew, about the last tune you would expect to hear in this part of the world.