Mortified and dejected, the discomfited hunters returned to the encampment, where they were received by Mr. Mayburn with a lesson on humanity to animals, by Margaret with friendly raillery, and by Jenny with ill-repressed murmurs; but all were grieved at the sufferings of the poor horse.
"That beast must just lie where he is for one day, however," said Wilkins; "and I question whether that'll sarve to mend a bad job. I say, some of ye slips of lads, run up them trees, and take a look round, to see if t' coast's clear."
It was at once employment and amusement for the active boys, Hugh and Gerald, to climb two tall fig-trees that grew in front of the wood, and scan the wide scene around.
"Now, sentinels," cried Margaret from below, "please to report what you have observed."
"I can see our little rivulet," said Hugh, "winding like a silver thread over the plains to the south-east, even to the very horizon, where a gray line terminates the view. That may be the hem of the large river Arthur has planned."
"I say, Arthur, come up," cried Gerald; "I want you to look at a dark mass far away north. I could almost fancy I saw it moving."
Arthur was soon by his side, and, after examining the object pointed out, he said with a sigh, "You are right, Gerald, it does move; and I fear we are pursued at this unlucky moment, when we cannot, I fear, continue our flight. You, boys, remain to watch, while I descend to hold a council about our perilous situation."
"Hand us up the guns, then, Arthur," answered Gerald, "and see if we will not guard the pass. Not a single rogue shall advance, but we will mark him and bring him down from our watch-tower."
"That plan will not do, Gerald," said Arthur. "Your office is to watch, and, as soon as you can, to ascertain their strength."
Then the distressed youth descended to report his lamentable tidings to the tranquil party below, and great was the dismay felt by the timid.