Laughingly he waved aside their warnings and since one road was like another for his purpose set off across the nearest marsh track in the general direction of Dungeness. An hour’s walking on the lonely wastes convinced him that the old folk knew what they were talking about. His map and pocket compass helped him only vaguely, for as he branched into deeper recesses there were twists and tangles, tracks that came to an abrupt nothingness, and unexpected watercourses that barred his way. Once or twice he located himself by the aid of occasional “lookers,” as the shepherds of the district are locally known. After all, it did not much matter whether he went in one direction or another. He wished there were more shepherds. If there had been a big motor car traversing these rough tracts one or the other of them would surely have seen it.

Many hours went by, however, and all his inquiries met with negative result. He was by now completely lost. An hour had gone since he had seen a living soul and he sat down to eat a sandwich, with which he had had the forethought to provide himself, and to consider the position.