But a greyhound is not like a mastiff, and they hung round us, careless, or helpless, in the mists and darkness.
Presently we came to a place where the horses stopped of their own accord.

There was a sheer rock on one side, and the hill was steep below us, and a stream brawled somewhere before us.
"Well," I said, "here we stay for the night.

It is of no use wandering any longer, and the night is warm." We thought nothing of this, for any hunter knows that such a chance may befall him in a strange and wild country.

So we laughed together and off-saddled and hobbled the horses, and so sat down supperless to wait for morning under the rock.

The mist was clammy round us, thinning and then thickening again as the breaths of wind took it; but the moon would rise soon, and then maybe it would go.
We had no means of making a fire, and no cloaks; so sleep came hardly, and we talked long.