They grew thicker and more frequent.

Then we saw a light, and at last rode up to a hut-door, cheered by the warm light, emanating from a roaring fire within, which poured through every crack in the house-side, and made the very fog look warm.
I held Dick's horse while he knocked.

The door was opened by a wee feeble old man, about sixty, with a sharp clever face, and an iron-grey rough head of hair.
"Night, daddy," said Dick.

"Can me and my master stay here to-night?
We're all abroad in this fog.

The governor will leave something handsome behind in the morning, old party, I know." (This latter was in a whisper.) "Canst thou stay here, say'st thou ?" replied the old fellow.