“Surely,” said I; “I dare say others have passed here. We are not so far from the village.”
“It’s mine,” he said. “See?” And ignoring me, he crept along, for all the world as if he had lost something, examining the earth with great concern and increasing satisfaction.
I had never before seen him so interested, and my own interest was aroused, for if he had indeed passed here himself it might afford a clue to something or other—though I did not know what.
“It is only moss,” I said, “and——”
“It’s wax-moss,” he interrupted me with the first sign of assurance he had ever shown. “They stay in wax-moss—See?”
He was now so engrossed with his quest that I could but watch and follow him.
“Have you been here before?” I queried. He gave no heed, but hurried along through the gully until, having gone a hundred feet or more, his will power seemed to collapse and he waited for me, wringing his hands distressingly.
“What is it?” I said.
“It’s over there,” he answered, clutching me in evident terror.
“Well, we’ll go and see it,” I answered cheerily, and we moved along, he still clutching me as if afraid that I would desert him.