“And I. Now, will you two try to push into and through the trees somewhere, that we may at least get our bearings? I will remain with Whimple while you are gone, and will make the attempt on my own account if you return unsuccessful. It will be as well to keep a reserve of strength.”
“Oh! certainly,” said Luvaine. “And if we are fortunate, sir, you can set your care for a fellow-creature against our trouble and endurance.”
Sir David pulled the speaker hastily away.
“Au revoir!” he cried over his shoulder. “I hope we shall bring you tidings.”
Tuke watched them wade their first, comparatively easy, paces; then he dived into the cabin once more.
“Dennis!” he cried.
The man was sitting up, an expression of the most profound astonishment on his face; but all token of fever vanished.
“My good fellow—you are in your senses again?”
“Am I, sir? Then they are queerly lodged. Wait!”
He passed his hand over his forehead in a bewildered manner.