So off they set, Veevee and Briton bounding and barking in front, and
Flossy waddling behind. Tom had his rifle and plenty of cartridges, but
there was really nothing to shoot but the lovely gulls, and the boy was
not so cruel as to touch one of these.

So they wandered on and on and upwards, until they came to a level spot
all one lovely carpet of small wild flowers. Poppies of many colours grew
here, mosses, yellow stone-crop, and grasses of every hue, but they
agreed not to pick any until they should be returning. Still higher they
went up the mountain-side, when suddenly little Pansy exclaimed: "Look,
Tom! look, Ara! the sea is all flied away!"

[Illustration]

Tom stared behind him and stood aghast.

A huge wall of fog or white mist had quite covered the ocean and even the
shore, shutting them out from view, and was now slowly advancing towards
them. But that was not the worst, for a low, moaning wind came on before
it, and flakes of snow began to fall.

It was easy for Tom to say: "Let us get back at once to the beach, the
boat must be there already." They had come miles from the bay. Before
they could walk half the distance back, the snow-fog had swallowed them,
and it was no wonder that they lost their way, and became cold and faint
and dizzy.

Both Aralia and Pansy began to cry now, and at last sank down among the
dry snow, unable to move another yard.