“What’s that?” said Sydney suddenly.
“Rabbud.”
The two lads stood listening to the rapid run of feet through the rustling fern, and then tramped on again through the darkness.
Sydney was having a hard fight the greater part of the time with his thoughts, and try how he would, they seemed to be too much for him. In fact, so great a hold did they get at last, that somewhere about three o’clock he stopped short; but Pan went on with his head down till his name was sharply pronounced, when he stopped short with a start.
“Why, I believe you were asleep.”
“Was I, Master Syd?” said the boy, blankly looking about him. “I s’pose ’twas because I thought father was making me walk round and round the garden all night for not cleaning the boots.”
“Turn round—this way.”
“Yes, Master Syd. Where are we going now?”
“Back again.”
“Back—again?”