Dickie was ready. He didn't say much, but snuggled down beside his sister, and without a word they put an arm round each other and shared a little of the other's warmth. Mary had stopped shivering when Macbeth's ears cocked, and they heard the sound of an aeroplane. It was the first sound besides their own steps and voices and the drip of moisture which they had heard since the fog came down on them. The plane came nearer.

"It's very low, Dickie. It's coming here..." And with a mighty roar it seemed as if it passed only a few hundred feet above their heads. Then it seemed to circle and come back again.

"He's lost, Mary. That's what it is. He's like us and doesn't know where he is. Wish I was up there, though." Again his words were drowned by the roar of the engines as the lost pilot tried to find his bearings by picking out a landmark. They heard him for a few minutes longer, and then the blanket of fog closed down and muffled the distant throbbing.

Under the rock the two children and the dog waited. From far away, somewhere below them where the wood must be, came the cry of an owl.

"Tu-whooooo! Tu-whit. Tu-ooooooo!" it called. "Perhaps he's lonely, too," said Mary. The call came again. Nearer. Then, by some odd chance, the mist began to clear a little and, as the children listened and watched, they could see the shape of trees at the edge of the wood below them.

They stood up. "It's going, Mary. The fog's disappearing."

"It isn't really going, twin, but it's moving. What a funny old owl. It's quite near."

And while they listened the first owl's cry was answered, loud and clear, quite close to them. It seemed to come from a little higher up the hill and behind the rock. Macbeth barked, and at the same time they heard someone crashing about in the undergrowth somewhere in the wood below them. Dickie was just going to shout when a man came out of the trees, put his hands to his mouth, and hooted like an owl. Macbeth barked again, and the stranger looked up in surprise. Then the children saw that the man was Jacob from Appledore, and, much as they disliked him, they ran down the hillside towards him while a cold, dank wind eddied some more mist into the clearing.

Mary reached him first. "Please, Mr. Jacob," she said, "please take us to Appledore. We don't know where we are, and we can't get home over the top 'cos the fog is too thick."

Then Dickie and Mac arrived, and Jacob looked at them all as if he hated them.

"Why do you children not go away and stay away? Always you are a nuisance. Go away now. This is all private."