“Let’s get up to the top of that rock first. I think that’s where we came down.”
“Nay, nay, Mr Mark, sir. I’m sure as that wasn’t the way. It was up that one.”
“I’m certain it was not, Billy. It was this. Come along.”
“All right, Mr Mark, sir! If you says that’s right, it’s quite enough for me. I’ll go anywheres you likes to lead; and I can’t say fairer than that—can I?”
“No, Billy,” said Mark; “so come along.”
He led the way, and they climbed by the help of the bushes and aerial roots of the trees right to the top of the rugged bank of rock he had marked down in his mind’s eye as being the way; and as soon as they were there they stopped and listened.
“Perhaps they’re looking for us,” he said.
“Shouldn’t wonder, Mr Mark, sir.”
But though they listened there was no shout, no distant sound to suggest that a search was being made.
“You talk about Jack,” said Mark; “I wish we had got poor old Bruff here! He would find the way home.”