“Not he,” said the smuggler, coolly. “He’s had plenty to eat and drink, and a lot of canvas for a bed. He hasn’t hurt.”
“You didn’t hear his cries for help,” said Aleck.
“No, or I should have come down to quiet him if I’d been near,” said the smuggler, gruffly. “Come on.”
He led the way farther in away from the mouth of the cavern, and in and out amongst rocks which lay about the rugged floor, the course being beside the water, which now began to grow of a jetty black, while from time to time Aleck caught a gleam of something bright overhead, showing that here and there the roof came lower. He saw, too, that the winding, canal-like channel of water gradually grew narrower, till the lanthorn illumined the place sufficiently for the lad to see that they could easily cross to the other side by stepping from rock to rock, which rose above the shallow water.
“We’ll go over here,” said the smuggler, “but by and by the water will be right over there, and you have to go right to the end and climb along the ledge. Can you see where to step?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“Mind how you come; the stones here are slippery with the wet seaweed.”
“I can manage,” said Aleck, and he carefully stepped across and stood on the other side. “Now, where is he?”
“Yonder, half way up that side! There’s a snug hole there, plenty big enough for him. I’ve slept there lots of times when we’ve been busy.”
Aleck did not enquire what the business was, but he surmised as he followed the guide, with the light from the lanthorn enabling him to see where to put his feet.