“I couldn’t help it. How horrid it sounds!”
“Yes,” said Vince very softly, “but he has got to catch us yet. Who’s old Jarks? Here, I know: they mean the Frenchman: Jacks—Jacques, don’t you see?”
“Yes, I see,” said Mike dismally.
“He’s the skipper, of course. French skipper with an English crew. They must be a nice set. I say, do you feel cold?”
“Cold? I don’t feel as if I had any feet at all.”
“We must have some exercise,” said Vince grimly; and he uttered a faint chuckling sound. “I say, though, Mike don’t be down about it. He’s only a Frenchman, and we’re English. We’re not going to let him catch us, are we?”
“It’s horrible,” said Mike. “Why, he’ll kill us!”
“He hasn’t caught us yet, I tell you, lad. Look here: we know everything about the caves now, and we can go anywhere in the dark, can’t we?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Mike dismally.
“Very well, then; we must wait till it’s dark, and then creep out and make for the way out.”