The red squirrel swarming up the trunk, the startled pigs that rushed away grunting from their feast of mast, the solitary rider who met us, armed to the teeth, and passed northwards after whispering with the landlord--all these I saw.

But my mind was not with them.

It was groping and feeling about like a hunted mole for some way of escape.

For time pressed.

The slope we were on was growing steeper.