Part 11 (1/2)

”There, you see--an echo.”

”Ahoy!” came again.

”That's no echo,” cried Uncle Bob joyfully. ”d.i.c.k!”

He shouted as loudly as he could.

”Ahoy!”

”There! It was no echo. He's all right; and after falling down here he has worked his way out and round the other side, where we went up first, while we came down the other way and missed him.”

”d.i.c.k, ahoy!” he shouted again; ”where away?”

”Ahoy!” came back, and we had to consult.

”If we go up one way to meet him he will come down the other,” said Uncle Bob. ”There's nothing for it but to wait till morning or divide, and one of us go up one side while the other two go up the other.”

Uncle Jack snapped his watch-case down after examining the face by the pale light of the moon.

”Two o'clock,” he said, throwing himself on the loose shale. ”Ten minutes ago, when we were in doubt, I felt as if I could go on for hours with the search. Now I know that poor old d.i.c.k is alive I can't walk another yard.”

I had slipped and scrambled down to him now, and Uncle Bob turned to me.

”How are you, Cob?” he said.

”The skin is off one of my heels, and I have a blister on my big toe.”

”And I'm dead beat,” said Uncle Bob, sinking down. ”You're right, Jack, we must have a rest. Let's wait till it's light. It will be broad day by four o'clock, and we can signal to him which way to come.”

I nestled down close to him, relieved in mind and body, and I was just thinking that though sc.r.a.ps of slaty stone and brashy earth were not good things for stuffing a feather-bed, they were, all the same, very comfortable for a weary person to lie upon, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and opening my eyes found the sun s.h.i.+ning brightly and Uncle d.i.c.k looking down in my face.

”Have I been asleep?” I said confusedly.

”Four hours, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. ”You lay down at two. It is now six.”

”But I dreamed something about you, Uncle d.i.c.k,” I said confusedly. ”I thought you were lost.”

”Well, not exactly lost, Cob,” he said; ”but I slipped over that tremendous slope up yonder, and came down with a rush, stunning myself and making a lot of bruises that are very sore. I must have come down a terrible distance, and I lay, I suppose, for a couple of hours before I could get up and try to make my way back.”

”But you are not--not broken,” I cried, now thoroughly awake and holding his hand.

”No, Cob,” he said smiling; ”not broken, but starving and very faint.”

A three miles' walk took us to where we obtained a very hearty breakfast, and here the farmer willingly drove us to the nearest station, from whence by a roundabout way we journeyed back to Arrowfield, and found the landlady in conference with Mr Tomplin, who had come to our place on receiving a message from Mrs Stephenson that we had gone down to the works and not returned, her impression being that the men had drowned us all in the dam.

CHAPTER SIX.

”DO LET ME COME.”

The rest of the week soon slipped by, and my uncles took possession of the works, but not peaceably.