"I should think no more than ten," said Bannister. "We started at daybreak, and we were not two hours upon the march before we found the brook."
When I looked at Joshua, I was reminded of the man whom I had known on board the Mary Greenfield, who was wont to sit drinking at his cards. He was red of eye and flushed of countenance, and I saw that his lips trembled with a passion he was quite unable to contain. He was a rough man, in any case; and now that he had lived for months in the wilderness, and had been saved from death as it were at the eleventh hour, he was the greatest savage of the five of us.
"Ten o'clock," he repeated. "Four bells, by Christopher! Then, he can't be far away. He can never have travelled far by night, for he took with him a hundredweight of gold. I'll go after him," he cried. "He shall answer yet for what he tried to do."
Bannister stretched out an arm to detain the man; but Trust sprang aside and, with another oath, dived into the thickets.
[CHAPTER XXVI--A NIGHT OF TERROR]
I was about to follow in pursuit of Trust, and had even taken a few steps towards the undergrowth upon the right bank of the brook, when Bannister called me back.
"What's the use?" said he. "Let dogs delight. We have our own friends to think of."
"Our own friends?" said I.
"Have you forgotten Rushby? We have left him alone too long as it is. His life is more to us than the fate of either Trust or Baverstock; and he is in danger just as great."
At those words, I felt something of shame that I had indeed forgotten one who had proved himself so loyal and true a comrade.