Oscott brought out his horse. The shepherd smiled pityingly at the children. "We'll tell the boundary-rider to look you up. He will bring the dog his breakfast, and I have no doubt Mrs. Feltham will send him with yours."
With a cheery good-night, crossed by the shepherd with a cheerier good-morning, intended to keep their spirits up, the men departed.
Edwin put his arm round Audrey. "Are you really afraid? I would not show a white feather after all he said. Come inside."
The hut was very similar to the one at the entrance of the gorge, with the customary bed of fern leaves and thick striped blanket. The men had laid Effie down upon it, and Cuthbert was kneeling beside her rubbing her hands.
"I'll tell you a secret," he whispered. "Our Audrey has gone over to the groaners."
"No, she has not," retorted Edwin. "But once I heard that Cuthbert was with the criers."
"Where are we?" asked Effie piteously.
"Safe in the house that Jack built," said her brother, wishing to get up a laugh; but it would not do.
Audrey turned her head away. "Let us try to sleep and forget ourselves."
Edwin found a horse-rug in the hut, and went out to throw it over Beauty's back, for the wind was blowing hard. There was plenty of drift-wood strewing the shore, and he carefully built up the fire. Having had some recent experience during the charcoal-burning, he built it up remarkably well, hoping the ruddy blaze would comfort Audrey—at least it would help them to dry their muddy clothes. The sound of the trampling surf and the roar of the angry sea seemed as nothing in the gray-eyed dawn which followed that night of fear.