Chapter Thirty Six.
Tommy Smith as a Forlorn Hope.
“What an escape!” exclaimed Drew at last.
“Yes,” said Panton, wiping the cold perspiration from his brow, “for him, too.”
“But what next?” exclaimed Drew. “I’m thinking about poor Rimmer. Can’t one of us get round through the forest before them, and warn them on board the brig? It will be horrible for them to be surprised.”
“You know we can’t get through these trees,” said Panton sadly, “and it would take a day if we could. But Rimmer won’t be surprised.”
“No, I hope not,” said Drew. “We ought to have sent a man back to warn him.”
“We meant to go ourselves, only we couldn’t leave poor Lane in the lurch.”
“No,” said Drew, with a sigh. “Do you think it’s safe yet to imitate the birds again?”
“No, I don’t,” said Panton, sharply. “You’ll bring the enemy back upon us if you do that. Now, then, at all hazards we must go in search of him. I’m afraid he has broken down from the exertion.”