"Couldn't we let ourselves drop somehow?" asked Clive.
David shook his head.
"It's nearly twenty feet from the window ledge," said he, "and I'm afraid one of us might break some of our bones."
"O, it's not so very far," said Clive. "Yes, but if we were to drop, that wild boar would hear us, and rush out in a moment."
At this terrible suggestion, Clive turned away, and regarded David with his old look of horror.
"It's no use trying," said David; "that horrible wild boar waked up when we entered his den. He saw us going up, and has been watching ever since for us to come down. They are the most ferocious, most pitiless, and most cruel of all wild beasts. Why; if we had the ladder down from the window, and could get to the ground, he'd pounce upon us before we could get even as far as the path."
Clive left the window, and sat down in despair, leaning against the wall, while David stood staring blankly out into vacancy. Their position was now not merely an embarrassing one. It seemed dangerous in the extreme. From this place they saw no sign of any human habitation. They could not see the convent. Albano was hidden by the hill already spoken of; nor had they any idea how far away it might be. This path over which they had gone had not appeared like one which was much used; and how long it might be before any passers-by would approach was more than they could tell.
"Well," said Clive, "we've lost our dinner, and it's my firm belief that we'll lose our tea, too."
David made no reply.
Clive arose, and walked over to him.