Scarlett stopped short, thinking. Some one had been and brought Nat food, for there it was in solid reality, tempting him to eat; and if he took the poor fellow down into the secret passage, it would no longer prove to be a secure hiding-place, for those who missed the wounded man would search perhaps and find.
That did not follow, though. They might think that he had crept away; and besides, the case was desperate, and he must risk it.
“You said, ‘But,’ Master Scar,” said Nat, feebly, after waiting for his young master to go on.
“Nothing, nothing,” said Scarlett, hastily, for his mind was made up. “Now then, pass your arms round my neck, clasp your hands together, and hold tightly. I’ll draw you out of that place.”
“Take the food first, Master Scar. There, stuff it in your wallet, lad.”
Scarlett did not hesitate, but placed the precious treasure in the receptacle, and then bent down. Nat obeyed his instructions, and by a strong effort he was drawn out.
“Have I hurt you much, Nat?” said Scarlett, as he gazed through the dim light at the pallid face so close to his.
“Well, sir, not to make much bones about it, tidy, pretty tidy. What next, sir?”
“I want to lower you down through the branches into that hole.”
“Eh?” ejaculated Nat, forgetting his weakness and the aching pain he suffered, as he gave quite a start. “No, no, Master Scar, don’t do that.”