midday
The open spaces were marshy , where our horses sank to the hocks . The woods were one medley of fallen trees , rotting into touchwood , hidden boulders , and matted briers . Often we could not move till Donaldson and Bertrand with their hatchets had hewn some sort of road . All this meant slow progress , and by midday we had not gone half-way up the glen to the neck which meant the ridge of the pass . This was an occasion when Ringan showed at his best . He had lost his awe of Elspeth , and devoted himself to making the road easy for her . Grey , who would fain have done the same , was no match for the seafarer , and had much ado to keep going himself .