“Go then,” said the doctor, “and mind, you are not to attempt to return.”
“Arks your pardon, sir, but it’ll be ’bout two hours ’fore I get down to the boat.”
“No, no; not half that time,” cried the doctor.
“We’ve come a long way, sir. What do you say, mates?”
“All two hours,” was the reply.
“Yes, sir, you’ve been so anxious ’bout it you arn’t noticed how the time goes, and as I was going to say, by the time I get down to the boat it will be black as the inside o’ one o’ the coal-bunkers.”
The doctor stood gazing at the man wildly.
“There won’t be no more searching then.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” groaned the doctor. “There, stop with us. Come what may the poor fellows must be found.”
Bang! went a signal gun again, and the echoes rolled away up the mountain, growing fainter and fainter, while the lovely grove, full of dazzling light and darkest shade, resplendent in its beauty, and with the air fragrant with the freshened odour of leaf and flower, seemed to Doctor Instow the most horrible solitude to which man had ever been condemned.