The Goblin Of Curtery Sink
November, 1965
When they left Moretonhampstead on their way to Tavistock, there was a brief moment of sunshine, lighting up the bare rolling hills all about them; but the clouds closed in again almost at once. England's Dartmoor was appropriately gloomy and forbidding. They rode in silence, Mildred scowling at the overcast firmament, Harry appraising the terrain, which fascinated him: hill after low barren hill, clothed in nothing but grass and bracken, with frequent stark outbursts of rock but not a single tr...
