“They can’t,” said Gwyn, going down on his knees to give the dog a hug. “A jolly old chap—they see with their noses; don’t you, old Grip?”
“Whuf!” cried the dog; and he made a frantic effort to lick his master’s face.
“It’s wonderful!” cried Joe, excitedly.
“Yes, makes a fellow wish he had a nose like a dog. Why, Jolly, we could have found our way out, then.”
“Don’t see it,” said Joe, who was in a peculiarly excited state, which made him ready to laugh or cry at the slightest provocation.
“Don’t see it! Of course you don’t. Couldn’t we have smelt our way out by our own track, same as he did? But bother all that. Why, Jolly, if I could only feel sure that the dads were safe out, I shouldn’t care a bit.”
“No; I shouldn’t either. Oh, I say, isn’t it a relief?”
“Yes, and so I feel all right. They’re out: I’m sure of it.”
“How do you know?”
“By Grip being here.”