“No, sir: durings. They are good after all. Give’s your hand, my lad.” He bent down from a mass of basalt, which seemed to be the end of a rugged wall which penetrated the trees, and along which it was possible to climb more easily than to force a way through the dense growth which wove the trees together.
“I can manage, Billy,” said Mark. “Go on.”
Billy turned, and, apparently as active as if he had just started, he climbed on, parting the bushes that grew out of the interstices and holding them aside for Mark to clear them, and then on and on, without the sign of a fruit-tree or berry-bearing bush. The sun beat down through the overshadowing boughs, but the two had risen so high that the forest monarchs had become as it were dwarfed, and it was evident that they would soon be above them and able to look down on their tops.
“Why, Billy,” exclaimed Mark, “if we go on, we shall soon be able to see the sea, and the best way down to the camp.”
“Sure we shall, Mr Mark, sir,” said the little sailor, descending a sudden slope and helping Mark to follow, after which they wound in and out for about a quarter of an hour, thoroughly eager in their quest for a way to simplify the descent of the rest of the party.
All at once the captain’s final words came to memory, and Mark exclaimed:
“Here; we mustn’t go any farther, Billy. We’ll turn back now.”
“All right! Mr Mark, sir, we’ll soon do that; and then we can all come on this way together. We can show ’em now, eh?”
“Yes,” said Mark; “but let’s see, which way did we come? Along there, wasn’t it?”
“’Long there, Mr Mark, sir? No, not it. Why, we come this way, down by these rocks.”