I called—but there was no reply! I stood still and listened, but heard nothing save the bubbling of the stream, and, far, far away, the to-whoo of an owl.
Noiselessly a bat fluttered past me, coming instantaneously out of the blackness of the night, and vanishing back into it as instantaneously.
"I say, you fellow!" hallooed I to the vanishing guide.
"You fellow!" answered the scaurs of Penigent, in a lower key.
"To-whoo," faintly called the owl.
"What do you mean by deserting me like this?" I roared.
"Like this," muttered the echo. "To-whoo," responded the owl.
"I must follow the beck," I said; "that will lead me to the river, and the river will guide me to some habitation of living man."
"Living man," growled the echo. "To-whoo," sang the owl.
I stumbled over the water-worn stones, and splashed into water. My ankles were scarified, my shins bruised; I narrowly escaped breaking my bones as I fell again and again. I did not dare leave the stream, lest I should lose my way.