“We ought to be, but we mustn’t be within sight of Mr Papuan at daybreak; for, so near as we are, we shall have some of his arrows quivering in us. I don’t know that I am very much afraid of a wound as a rule, but I am awfully scared about having a poisoned arrow in me. I don’t want to die of locked jaw.”
“Hist. Back,” whispered Oliver. “We must go somewhere, for they’re coming on, and it sounds like a good number of them.”
Talking was quite plain now, and those who spoke were evidently full of confidence, for one man spoke in a loud voice, and a chorus of agreement or dissent arose, otherwise the enemy must have heard the whispering of the little party, which now retreated steadily, but with the result that Oliver grew confused, for he felt that he had entirely lost all sense of direction, and letting Panton come up abreast he told him so.
“Don’t matter,” said the latter. “You’ve evidently been going all wrong, and no wonder. Nature never meant us to play rats and owls. But I daresay we shall get right after all. I wish there were some trees so that we could shelter under them, and—”
“But there is nothing for a long distance but those barren rocks a quarter of a mile from the brig’s bows. If we could reach them.”
“Yes, where do you think they are?”
“I can’t think. I don’t know, only that they must be somewhere.”
“Yes, that’s exactly where they are,” said Panton, with a little laugh. “Somewhere, unless the earth has swallowed them up, but where that somewhere is I don’t know, nor you either, so we’re lost in the dark.”
“Hush, not so loud, the daylight cannot be very far-off now.”
“What? Hours. I don’t believe it’s midnight yet.”