“Why, Jack, old fellow, frightened?” he said, as he passed his arm round the human-looking little animal.
“Chick, chack!” cried Jack, and accepting the invitation he huddled up close to Mark’s breast, tucking his nose under his arm, and directly after the lad could feel that both the thin little arms were clinging to him tightly.
“No wonder I feel a bit afraid,” he said to himself, “if they wake up and come to me for protection.”
And with something of a warm glow at his heart as he felt himself occupying the position of protector, he sat there waiting for the storm to cease, the danger dying out of his mind, his head drooping down upon his chest, and at last Mark and his two strange bed-fellows were fast asleep, with the thunder roaring to them its deep-toned lullaby till it slowly died away.
Bruff was the first to wake and begin barking loudly, for Mark to start up in wonder, perfectly ignorant of where he was. It was as dark as ever, but the rain had ceased, the lightning merely flashed now and then, and there was a delicious sensation of cool freshness in the air which came most gratefully to the senses.
“Where am I?” thought Mark, “and what does this mean?” for he had been awakened by the dog’s barking from one of those heavy dreamless sleeps where the mind refuses to open and take in facts as quickly as do the eyes.
The dog barked again more loudly than ever and now rushed from out of the shelving rocks.
“Mark, ahoy! Where are you, lad?”
“Here, father, here!” he shouted, but still wondering what it meant, till he heard the loud thud of approaching feet coming through the darkness, and once more there was a hail.
“Where away, lad?”