“Shall we go back and try if we can see it?” he whispered.
“Go back! Now, my dear lad, don’t. Don’t think about that. Ugh! after such an escape! Come along.”
“Wait a moment. Where’s the sun? It should be on our right.”
“Well, it’s on our left, now,” said Billy.
“Then we’ve been going farther away from the sea. Well, we can’t go back.”
“Go back, my dear lad! no! let’s go this way, and make on till we come to somewhere. Anything, so as to get right away from that horrible beast.”
In spite of his proposal to go back and try and get a glimpse of their enemy, Mark felt more disposed to hurry away; and for the next two hours they climbed and struggled on, half aware, and yet not willing to alter their course, that they were going farther from help.
Mark said so at last.
“But we don’t want help so much now, sir, as miles of distance. Let’s get away, right away, Mr Mark, and when we feels we’re safe then we’ll talk about going for camp.”
Mark said no more, but trudged on, and struggled through the trees, with the ground growing higher and higher, till at last they came upon a sight which made Billy Widgeon try to throw up his cap; but he only struck it against a bough, and then made a dash forward in the direction of something which quite for the moment overmastered all his feelings of dread.