Part 7 (1/2)

”Can you make out what it was, then?”

”Yes; it was something we don't understand, making joy because some one as it don't like has been drownded.”

The boy felt too much startled and excited to pause and ridicule his companion's superst.i.tious notions, and he took a few steps quickly to the rough, square wall, from a faint hope that the sound might have come from there; but as he touched the wall, a strong grip was on his shoulder.

”No, yer don't,” growled Hardock. ”You keep back.”

”But that cry!” panted Joe.

”It didn't come from there. It was sea way.”

”Yes; there it is again!”

Sounding more faint and distant, the strange cry floated from away to their left, and a strange thrill ran through Joe Jollivet, as he yielded to the man's hand, and suffered himself to be drawn right away from the mouth of the hole.

”Yes, I heard it,” said Hardock, in a low tremulous voice, and with a look of awe, which accorded ill with the man's muscular figure. ”Don't you know what it was?”

”No; do you? Could it be Gwyn calling for help?” The man nodded his head and spoke in a low mysterious whisper, as if afraid of being overheard.

”I dunno about calling for help, my lad; but it was him.”

”But where--where?” cried Joe, wildly.

”Out yonder. We couldn't see 'em, but they must ha' come sweeping out of the pit there, and gone right off with him, like a flock of birds, right away out to sea.”

”Oh, you fool!” cried Joe. ”It's horrible to listen to you great big fishermen and miners with your old women's tales. If it's Gwyn calling, he must be somewhere near, I know. There's another shaft somewhere, and he's calling up that. Come and see.”

”There aren't no other shaft, my lad,” said the man, mysteriously.

”It's what I say. You'll know better some day, and begin to believe when you've seen and heard as much as me. There's things and critters about these cliffs sometimes of a night, and in a storm, as makes your hair stand on end to hear 'em calling to one another. Why, I've knowed the times when--”

”There it is again,” cried Joe, excitedly. ”Ahoy!” he yelled. ”Where are you?”

There was no answer, and the boy stood staring about him with every sense strained, listening intently; but no further sound was heard, and the man laid his hand upon the boy's arm.

”Come away, lad,” he whispered, ”afore ill comes to us. Didn't you hear?”

”I heard the cry.”

”Nay, I meant that there whispering noise as seemed to come up out o'

the pit. Let's go while we're safe.”

”Nonsense! What is there to be afraid of?” cried Joe, impatiently.

”Listen!”

”I don't know what there is to be afraid of, my lad; but there's something unked about, and the gashly thing's given me the creeps. Come away.”

”Ah, there! Why, it's towards the cliffs. A cry!” Joe shouted, for, very softly, but perfectly distinct, there was a peculiar distant wailing cry. ”It's all right, Sam. He's alive somewhere, and he's calling to us for help.”