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We
always
carried
plaids
enough
to
keep
us
warm
and
dry
.
So
on
this
day
I
speak
of
we
did
not
turn
back
when
we
found
ourselves
in
the
midst
of
a
sudden
mist
.
We
sat
down
in
a
sheltered
place
and
waited
,
knowing
it
would
lift
in
time
.
The
sun
had
been
shining
when
we
set
out
.
Angus
and
Jean
were
content
to
sit
and
guard
me
while
I
amused
myself
.
They
knew
I
would
keep
near
them
and
run
into
no
danger
.
I
was
not
an
adventurous
child
.
I
was
,
in
fact
,
in
a
more
than
usually
quiet
mood
that
morning
.
The
quiet
had
come
upon
me
when
the
mist
had
begun
to
creep
about
and
inclose
us
.
I
liked
it
.
I
liked
the
sense
of
being
shut
in
by
the
soft
whiteness
I
had
so
often
watched
from
my
nursery
window
in
the
castle
.
“
People
might
be
walking
about
,
”
I
said
to
Angus
when
he
lifted
me
from
Sheltie
’
s
back
.
“
We
couldn
’
t
see
them
.
They
might
be
walking
.
”
“
Nothing
that
would
hurt
ye
,
bairnie
,
”
he
answered
.
“
No
,
they
wouldn
’
t
hurt
me
,
”
I
said
.
I
had
never
been
afraid
that
anything
on
the
moor
would
hurt
me
.
I
played
very
little
that
day
.
The
quiet
and
the
mist
held
me
still
.
Soon
I
sat
down
and
began
to
“
listen
.
”
After
a
while
I
knew
that
Jean
and
Angus
were
watching
me
,
but
it
did
not
disturb
me
.
They
often
watched
me
when
they
thought
I
did
not
know
they
were
doing
it
.
I
had
sat
listening
for
nearly
half
an
hour
when
I
heard
the
first
muffled
,
slow
trampling
of
horses
’
hoofs
.
I
knew
what
it
was
even
before
it
drew
near
enough
for
me
to
be
conscious
of
the
other
sounds
—
the
jingling
of
arms
and
chains
and
the
creaking
of
leather
one
notices
as
troopers
pass
by
.
Armed
and
mounted
men
were
coming
toward
me
.
That
was
what
the
sounds
meant
;
but
they
seemed
faint
and
distant
,
though
I
knew
they
were
really
quite
near
.
Jean
and
Angus
did
not
appear
to
hear
them
.
I
knew
that
I
only
heard
them
because
I
had
been
listening
.
Out
of
the
mist
they
rode
a
company
of
wild
-
looking
men
wearing
garments
such
as
I
had
never
seen
before
.
Most
of
them
were
savage
and
uncouth
,
and
their
clothes
were
disordered
and
stained
as
if
with
hard
travel
and
fight
.
I
did
not
know
—
or
even
ask
myself
—
why
they
did
not
frighten
me
,
but
they
did
not
.
Suddenly
I
seemed
to
know
that
they
were
brave
men
and
had
been
doing
some
brave
,
hard
thing
.
Here
and
there
among
them
I
caught
sight
of
a
broken
and
stained
sword
,
or
a
dirk
with
only
a
hilt
left
.
They
were
all
pale
,
but
their
wild
faces
were
joyous
and
triumphant
.
I
saw
it
as
they
drew
near
.
