Fetch guides.

Come with them.

Quick." There were no guides to be had nearer than Penchurch, four miles off, and Wally, very cold and wet and hungry and footsore, with a big load on his heart as he thought of Percy, pulled himself together with an effort and stumped off.
Rollitt strode on up the slope in the gathering night.

Cold and weather mattered little to him, still less did danger.

But Fisher minor mattered very much.