have snow: The sooner you are home, the better.”

The boys now ate their cake. Mrs Jackson came to the door with them. Then she said, as the first flake of snow fell—

“I am not sure, boys, that you had not better stay here all night.”

The boys laughed.

“Why, what would they say at home? They would just be in a way about us.”

“Well, at any rate, you had better go by the road.”

“Oh, that is two miles farther at least. We should not get home until long after dark. We shan’t be an hour by the hills. We know every foot of the way.”

“Well, good-bye, then. Make as much haste as you can.”

For half a mile their way led along the road, then they scrambled over a wall and began to ascend the barren hill-side. The snow was falling fast now. Thicker and thicker it came down, and when, hot and panting, they reached the top of the hill, the wind blew the flakes so fiercely into their faces that they were half-blinded, and were obliged to turn their backs to the gale while they got breath. For half an hour they struggled on. They could scarcely see ten paces before them through the driving snow, and in every sheltered spot white patches rapidly began to form.

“How different things look in a snow-storm!” Dick said, as they stopped for breath and shelter under the lee of a wall. “I don’t know, Tom, but I am not quite sure that we are going straight; I do not know what wall this is.”

“No more do I,” Tom Jackson replied. “I felt quite sure that we were going right at first, but somehow I don’t think so now.”

“I wish the snow would stop for a minute,” Dick said, “just to let us have a look round. If I could see a hundred yards I am sure I should know where we are. What is the matter with you, James; what are you blubbering about?”

“My feet are so cold; they hurt dreadfully.”

“Oh, never mind,” Dick said. “Come, boys, push along, and we shall soon be home.”

Again they started with heads bent to face the storm.

“It is getting dark awfully fast,” Tom Jackson said.

“It is, and no mistake. Come, let us have a trot. Come on, young one.”

But, although Dick spoke hopefully, he was not as confident as he appeared. He was sure now that they had lost the way. They might not, he hoped, be far off the track; but he knew that they were not following the precise line by which they came.

It was now nearly dark. The snow was falling thicker than ever, and the ground, except upon the uplands exposed to the full force of the wind, was covered with a white mantle.

On arriving at the bottom of a steep hill, they stopped again.

“Do you know where we are, Tom?”

“Not in the least,” Tom answered.

“This ought to be the last valley,” Dick said, “and after one more climb we ought to go straight down into Castleton. Don’t you remember in that valley there were a lot of sheep in a fold, with a wall round it? If we can find that, we shall know that we are right. It is near the bottom, so we shall not miss it. Which way shall we turn, left or right?”

“Let us try the left first,” Tom said.

They walked for half a mile, gradually ascending.

“It is not this way,” Tom said at last. “We are getting to the head of the valley. What are you doing, James?” as the young boy, who had been sobbing for some time, threw himself on the snow.

“I cannot go any farther,” he murmured. “I am so cold, and so tired, and so sleepy.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Dick said. “Here, take hold of his arm, Tom, and lift him up; give him a good shake; he must go on; he would die if he stopped here.”

The two lads raised the younger boy, and half-supporting half-dragging him turned and retraced their footsteps.

It was pitch dark now, and they could not see a yard before them. For some time they continued their way.

“There is no shepherd’s hut. Certainly, this is not the valley. What on earth are we to do?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, beginning to cry.

“Shut up, Tom Jackson. What are you thinking about? This is no time for howling like a baby; you have got to think of what is best to do. It is no use climbing the next hill, for we might be going away from home, instead of getting nearer. Besides, we should have to haul Jimmy up, for he can scarcely stand now; and, although it is bitterly cold here, it would be worse on the top of the hill. No, we have got to step here all night, that is clear.”

“We shall be dead before morning!” Tom roared.

“I will hit you in the eye, Tom Jackson, if you don’t shut up; you are as bad as a girl; I am ashamed of you. Now, what we have got to do, is to find some sort of shelter, either a wall or bush, and we must keep on until we come to something. Keep awake, Jimmy; we shan’t have much farther to go, and then you can lie down quietly.”

They went on for a bit.

“It is no use,” Dick said. “They don’t put walls across bottoms; more likely to find one either to the right or left. Now, Tom, you stop here for a minute or two, and I will look about; you keep shouting every minute, so that I can find my way back to you.”

Turning off, he began to ascend the next hill, and in two or three minutes shouted the glad news to Tom that he had found the wall; then he returned.

Jimmy, cheered at the prospect of lying down, made an effort, and they soon reached the wall.

Like most of the walls in Derbyshire, it was formed of flat stones laid without mortar, some four feet high.

“Now, Tom, set to work; get some stones off the wall on both sides, and build up two other walls against this; three feet wide inside will do, and just long enough to lie in. Here, Jimmy, you help; it will keep you awake, and, you see, the higher we make the walls the snugger it will be; we will have quite a nice house.”

The boys all set to work, and in half an hour three walls were built. At the point where the two side walls touched the other, they were three feet high, and sloped down to two at the lower end.

“Now, Jimmy, you chuck the snow out. Tom and I will go, one each way, along the wall; likely enough we may come upon some bushes—they often grow in shelter of the walls: if we can find a few sticks we will cover the house over. Lots of these stones are a couple of feet long, and we will manage a sort of roof. The snow will soon cover it, and we shall be as warm as possible.”

A quarter of an hour later the two boys returned; both had been successful and brought a bundle of sticks; these were laid across the top, interspersed with smaller twigs, the ends being kept down with stones to prevent their being blown away. The last were placed in position after the boys had crept inside. They did not attempt to roof it with stones, for the supply of sticks and brushwood was large enough to catch the snow-flakes as they fell, and these would soon form a covering, while it would have been difficult to balance the stones.

Jimmy was by this time in a state almost of lethargy; but the others were fairly warm from their exertions. They now lay down close beside the younger boy, one on each side. At first they felt