“How thirsty I am!” he said to himself; and then he listened.
All was horribly silent, and he called in a startled way, to be answered by a faint “Ahoy!”
“This way, Billy!”
There was again silence as Mark threw himself wearily on a mass of ferns; but after a time the rustling of boughs and breaking of twigs could be heard, and at last from apparently a long way off came Billy’s voice again:
“Mr Mark, ahoy!”
“Ahoy! This way!”
Another pause, with the rustling of leaves and twigs continued, and Billy’s voice again:
“Ahoy, my lad! Where are you?”
“Here!”
There was a low muttering as if Billy were talking to himself, and then another shout.