Cyril could not help feeling that if he told his story to these new-comers they would be sorry for him, and would befriend him. But he did not like to suggest that he should separate from his companion and wait for them.
Green, however, seemed to be thinking of it "They would not believe even you," he said. "You see, you'd be found in my company, and they would think you were one of us."
Across the boy's mind flashed the copybook precept he had written many a time, "A man is known by the company he keeps." And he remembered he could give no proof that his narrative was true.
"It's impossible to keep this up," panted Green after a while. "I'm dead beat! I can run no further."
The perspiration poured down his red face; he was thoroughly exhausted.
"Nor can I," cried Cyril, who, although more used to running than Green, was not in his usual health. "Let's give up."
They stopped short, and timidly, very timidly, looked round. They were alone. Not a creature—neither horse nor man—had followed them. With the exception of a few birds not a living thing could they see.
"Why, wherever be they?" exclaimed Green.
"Where? Where are they?" echoed Cyril.
There was no answer. Where, indeed, were their pursuers? Had the earth swallowed them?