For, from a distance, came a long, low, mournful shout, and directly after it was repeated, and they made out that it was the familiar sea-going Ahoy.
“It’s only one of the men,” said Oliver, and, putting his hand to his mouth, he was about to answer, but Panton checked him.
“Will it bring down another fall?” he whispered.
“No, no. There can be little fear of that now,” said Oliver. “All the loose dusty stuff must have come down,” and he hailed loudly; but his cry had, apparently, no effect, for it was not answered.
“Come on,” said Panton, after a few moments’ pause in the awful silence, which seemed to be far more terrible now, after the fall; and in the gathering darkness they started off, with the edge of the forest on their right to guide them. But the first part of their journey was not easy, for they had to climb and struggle through the ash and cinders, which had fallen, for a space of quite a couple of hundred yards before they were upon firm ground.
Then, as they stopped for a few moments to regain their breath, there was the mournful, despairing Ahoy! again, but though they answered several times over, there was no response till they had tramped on amidst increasing difficulties for quite a quarter of an hour—that which had been comparatively easy in broad daylight, growing more and more painful and toilsome as the darkness deepened.
Then, all at once, after a response to the mournful Ahoy, there came a hail in quite a different tone.
“Ahoy! Where away?”
“All right! Where are you?” cried Oliver.
“Here you are, sir. Here you are,” came from not a hundred yards away, and directly after they met Wriggs.