Grûl
The undergrowth into which we had now come was thick and hindering, so there was no further chance of speech. A few minutes more and we came out upon the seaward slope of the point. We pushed straight down to the water, here sheltered from the wind and little troubled. That our footprints might be hidden, at least for a time, we ran, one behind the other, along the lip of the tide, where the water was about ankle deep. In the stillness our splashing sounded dangerously loud, and Tamin, yet in a grumbling humour, spoke of it.
"But you forget, my friend," said I, gently, "that there is noise and to spare where our enemies are,—across there in the wind!"
In a moment Tamin spoke again, pointing some little way ahead.
"The land drops away yonder, M'sieu, 'twixt the point and the main shore!" he growled, with conspicuous anxiety in his voice. He was no trembler; but it fretted him to be taking what he deemed the weaker course. "Nothing," he added, "but a bit of bare beach that the waves go over at spring tides when the wind's down the Basin!"
I paused in some dismay. But my mind was made up.
"We must go on," said I. "But we will stoop low, and lose no time in the passage. They'll scarce be landed yet."
And now, as I came to see how low indeed that strip of perilous beach was, I somewhat misdoubted of success in getting by unseen. But we went a little deeper in the tide, and bowed our bodies with great humbleness, and so passed over with painful effort but not a little speed. Being come again under shelter, we straightened ourselves, well pleased, fetched a deep breath or two, and ran on with fresh celerity.
"But if a redskin should think to step over the beach, there'd be our goose cooked!" muttered Tamin.
"Well said!" I answered. "Therefore let us strike inland at once!" And I led the way again into the darkness of the forest.