Then she burst out suddenly into a passion of weeping. I set my teeth
harder than ever. There was only one way, after all, to get the better
of Dolly; and I had pitched on it.

"Yes: it is very well to cry," I said. "You nearly had me killed just
now. Well: you will have to listen to me presently, whether you like it
or not. Give me the lantern."

She made no movement. She had fought down the tears a little; but I
could hear her breath still sobbing. I reached up and took the lantern
from her right hand.

"Now; where in God's name are we?" said I.

We had ridden into some kind of blind alley, I presently saw; and that
was why Dolly's horse had halted. Even that I had not owed to her
goodwill. For we had ridden, I saw presently, lifting the lantern up and
down, into a great chalk pit; and must have turned off along the track
that led to it, from one of those sunken ways that drovers use to bring
their flocks up to the high road. That we were to the right of the high
road I was certain, of my own observation. _Ergo_; if we could get back
into the sunken way and turn to the right, we might find ourselves on
familiar ground again. However, I said nothing of this to Dolly. I was
resolved that she should suffer a little more first. I took the bridles
of the two horses more securely, slipping my hand with the lantern
through the bridle of my own, turned their heads round and walked
between them, looking very closely on this side and that, and turning my
lantern every way. After twenty yards I saw that I was right. The bank
on my left proved to be no bank, but the cliff-edge of the chalk pit