'I am sure of it,' said Holmes. 'Now, stay on the path.'
It was dark and the moon had not come up. We had to walk carefully. The path went through the Grimpen Mire and a sea of soft mud lay under the grass on either side of us.
Behind us, we heard that strange sound, the deep howling sound I had heard on the moor last night. It made me shiver with fear.
'What is it, Holmes?' I asked. 'Do you know what makes that sound.'
'No,' he answered, 'but the village people say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles. I will not go back to High Tor Farm tonight. Come. We must hurry. Keep your revolver ready.'