Mr. Lee was leaning against the side of the cart, speaking to old Hal.
They did not hear what he was saying, only the rabbiter's reply: "Trust 'em to me. I'll find some place of shelter right away, down by the sea. Here, take my hand on it, and go. God helping, you may save 'em at the ford. Maybe they are half buried alive. It is on my mind it will be a dig-out when you get there. The nearer the mischief the worse it will be. When our fellows see you have the pluck to venture, there'll be some of 'em will follow, sure and sartin."
"We are all chums here," said Mr. Lee, turning to the men. "Lend me that spade and I'm off to the ford. We must answer that coo somehow, my lads."
"We'll do what we can in the daylight," they answered.
"I am going to do what I can in the darkness," he returned, as he shouldered the spade and crossed over for a last look at his children.
Audrey laid her hand in his without speaking.
"You are not going alone, father, when I'm here," urged Edwin, springing off the horse. "Take me with you."
"No, Edwin; your post is here, to guard the others in my absence.—Remember, my darlings, we are all in God's hands, and there I leave you," said Mr. Lee.
He seized a broken branch, torn off by the wind, and using it as an alpenstock, leaped from boulder to boulder across the stream, and was up the other side of the valley without another word.
Cuthbert was crying; the dogs were whining; Audrey bent over Effie and rocked her backwards and forwards.