“Ah, howl yer whist,” he exclaimed, at last; “sure I ain’t the only one that’s got lost in these wuds, so I ain’t. You can find him yerself bether’n me, so ye can, if ye want to. How can I find him! Sorra one of me knows the way anywheres out of this; and I’m fairly broken-hearted, so I am, and that’s all about it.”
And saying this, Pat flung himself down, and buried his face in his hands. He felt overwhelmed by his troubles. His fears of the leprosy were still strong within him, and in addition to this he felt a keen sense of self-reproach at his desertion of Bart. Had it not been for Solomon he might not have thought of this; but the sight of the old man’s anxiety about Bart brought before him in the plainest manner the fact that he had been disloyal to his friend, and had deserted him, in this hour of need.
As for Solomon, he took only one look at him, and then turned away. In his faithful heart there was only one feeling, one desire; and that was, to get back to Bart. He had no idea of the actual state of the case. He did not know what a circuit Pat had made, but merely supposed that they had got off the track that the others were following. With this idea in his mind, he proceeded to call after Bart, so as to open up a communication with him. This he strove to do by means of a series of the most unearthly yells, shrieks, and howls that ever echoed through the recesses of a harmless and unoffending forest. Yell followed yell; howl succeeded howl; and a long series of hoots, halloos, shrieks, whoops, and hullaballoos followed in swift succession. After each effort Solomon stood listening attentively, waiting for a response before beginning again. But his listening and his waiting were all unavailing, for no response came, and all his unearthly cries only echoed through the dim forest aisles, without bringing back any answer from the one whom they were intended to reach. And no wonder: for by this time Bart was very far indeed out of hearing.
At last Solomon gave up in utter discouragement. He stood for a time in deep dejection, and then turned towards Pat, who had all this time remained in the same attitude, sitting with his head buried in his hands.
“How long ago is it,” asked Solomon, “sence you lost sight ob Mash Bart?”
“O, iver so long,” said Pat; “more thin an hour, surely.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Sure an how did I know?” said Pat, evasively; “wasn’t I bothered out of my life, an fairly heart-broke? so I was. An sure an it’s been a bad time for us all intirely. Bad luck to the day whin we came out to this leper place,—an me goin a bathin in the leper wather, an aitin their leper dinners; the more fool I was for that same. Sure an the praste’s the desayver, so he is, for laydin a poor feller in this way.”
Not one word of this did Solomon understand, nor did he try to understand it. He had other things to think about. His one idea was to find Bart once more. He did not think that he was far away, but believed that he had been going on in the same general direction, though he had swerved, to some extent, from the true course. So he now determined to go on, and hoped that he might find Bart before long.
“No use waitin in dis yer place, dis yer way,” said he. “I’m a goin to hunt up Mas’r Bart.”