Some of them were tempted to linger, and began to gather what blackberries could be found; but Miss Moseley had different plans.
"Come along! It's ridiculous to waste our labour here," she exclaimed.
"All these bushes have been well picked over already.

We'll walk straight on till we come to the lane near the ruined cottage, then we shall get a harvest and fill our baskets in a third of the time.

Quick march!" There was sense in her remarks, so Merle abandoned several half-ripe specimens for which she had been reaching and joined the file that was winding, Indian fashion, up the path through the wood.

Over a high, ladder-like stile they climbed, then dropped down into the gorge to where a small wooden bridge spanned the stream.

They loved to stand here looking at the brown rushing water that swirled below.