“Yes, sir, he come up,” said Vores; “but—the young gents are down still.”
“My son—my son—down that place!” cried the Colonel, while the Major uttered a groan.
“Yes, sir, and we were just going down to search for ’em when you come up.”
“Horrible!” groaned the Major.
“The place is a dreadful maze,” cried the Colonel; “we were lost, and have had terrible work to find our way up. You’re quite exhausted, Jollivet. Stay here. Now, my lads; volunteers: who’ll come down?”
“All on us, sir,” said Vores, sturdily; “they’ve got to be found.”
“Thank you,” cried the Colonel, excitedly; and the look of exhaustion died out of his face. “But you, Dinass—they say you went down with them. Why are you here?”
“’Cause they give me the slip, sir. For a lark, I suppose.”
“When they were in great anxiety about their fathers?” cried the Colonel, scornfully. “Do you dare to tell me such a lie as that? Explain yourself at once. Quickly, for I have no time to spare.”
It was the stern officer speaking now, with his eyes flashing; and literally cowed by the Colonel’s manner, and in dead silence, Dinass blundered through his narrative again, but with the addition of a little invention about the way in which his young companions had behaved.