They descended slowly toward the lower part of the slope, near the cliff edge. Here Joe stopped short, for faintly, but perfectly distinct, came the words, “Joe, ahoy!” and certainly from behind him.
“There, I knew he was up there!” cried the lad, excitedly; “come back. I was sure of it.”
He scrambled back as fast as he could, and Hardock followed him, frowning, and stood looking on, while his companion searched once more in every possible direction without avail.
“Ahoy, Gwyn. Y-doll!” he shouted through his hands. “Where are you?”
There was no reply, and after more searching and shouting, and with the man’s superstitious notions beginning to affect him, Joe stopped and gazed blankly in his face.
“Well, d’yer begin to believe me now, my lad?” whispered Hardock.
“I can’t help—” began the lad; and then he burst out with an emphatic. “No, it’s all nonsense! Gwyn must be here. Ahoy, Ydoll! Where are you?”
His voice died away, and in obedience to an order from the man, Joe began to descend the rugged slope again towards the green strip, which ran along near the cliff edge.
“It’s of no use fighting again’ it, my lad,” said Hardock, solemnly; “they’re a-mocking of you, and you might go on hunting all day long and couldn’t find nought. Let’s go; we aren’t safe here.”
“I won’t go,” cried the boy, “and I won’t believe what you think is possible. Gwyn’s somewhere about here. Now, think. Where is there that we haven’t searched?”