It was very dark; only a faint shine from the stars thinned the blackness. Almost at once he became aware that while the view before him was unobstructed, it was shut out behind by a mound of earth. From beyond this he heard the slow wash of the stream, and he gasped with thankfulness that the iron had escaped the channel, apparently by inches.
Nothing was in sight but the dark shapes of bushes, arbours, and the pile of buildings beyond. He was holding himself rigid, listening for sounds, wondering what he must do, when a slight, slow hiss struck upon his ear. Was it merely the rustle of the breeze? It came again. His message had not been received; no friend, it seemed, could be awaiting him; if the sound were human, could it proceed from anyone but an enemy?
He waited, tense, watchful, scarcely breathing. Then he started, for a few yards away, at the base of the embankment, a dark shape was stirring. Instinctively he tightened his clutch upon the spear, though he knew that with only his head above ground he could do nothing to defend himself. His one precaution was to sink down until only his eyes and scalp were above the surface.
He could not yet distinguish whether the form was that of an animal or of a man. It lifted itself, became gradually erect, and moved very slowly, almost imperceptibly, towards him. Then he began to recognise something familiar and friendly in the shape; he raised his head a little; a rush of hot blood made him dizzy; and he almost swooned with unspeakable joy and thankfulness when he heard a whisper in old Mac's well-known voice.
A rush of hot blood made him dizzy, and he almost swooned when he heard a whisper in old Mac's well-known voice.
"Dick!"
"Be careful!" Forrester murmured anxiously. "Don't come too near. Your weight may break through."
"Now, quick! How many do you muster?"
"Beresford and two Chinamen. There are others--helpless."