For as much as half an hour longer they went on their lonely road, now through thick woods, now by open fields. At last the murmur of the sea was faintly heard. They were approaching the shore of the ocean.
Leonard kept a sharp lookout.
Their course was now over rough places and through jagged paths. Every moment the roar of the sea grew more distinct.
At length Leonard’s captor reined in the horse. He took a small instrument from his pocket, placed it to his mouth, and gave three long, shrill whistles.
After a moment’s pause, the signal was answered. Then they pushed forward again, and after riding a short distance, halted.
Leonard could just discern in the darkness a high mass of rocks near him, while the washing of the waves on the shore could be heard close at hand.
“Now,” said his captor, “I’m going to take you down from the horse, and you’ll have to walk a spell. But I warn you that there’ll be no use in your trying to escape—you can’t do it. So look sharp and mind your footing, and keep close to me.”
He took a knife and cut the cords that bound Leonard, for they were so swelled with the rain that it was impossible to untie them.
Leonard leaped to the ground, and stretched his limbs, for they were cramped and painful.
“Now walk ahead of me,” was the command, and the two proceeded forward, Leonard’s mind being active and on the alert for some means of escape from his strange custody.