“Yes, yes, where is he?”
“Gone ’long uder way. Run back fas fas. Fraid o Gyp, Gyp send um way.”
“Stop him! Run after him! He must not go,” I cried.
I stopped, for there was a low piping whistle like the cry of a Blue Mountain parrot back at home.
“Jack Penny!” I gasped, and I answered the call.
“Iss, yes, Mass Jack Penny,” cried Jimmy, and Gyp made a bound from my side into the darkness, leaving us alone.
We heard the crash and rustle of the underwood as the dog tore off, and I was about to follow, but I could not stir, feeling that if I waited our guide might return, when, in the midst of my indecision, the whistle was repeated, and this time Jimmy answered.
Then there was more rustling, the dog came panting back; and as the rustling continued there came out of the darkness a sound that made my heart leap.
It was only my name softly uttered, apparently close at hand, and I made a bound in the direction, but only to fall back half-stunned, for I had struck myself full against a tree.
I just remember falling and being caught by some one, and then I felt sick, and the darkness seemed filled with lights.