Once more he shouted, till the night rang with echoes. Then, joyful sound! there rose from the valley an answering call, and he knew all was safe.
In a few minutes he was back again where Percy, once more awake, was sitting up, bewildered, and listening to the echoes which his repeated shouts still kept waking.
“It’s all right, old fellow; there’s a carriage.”
“They’ve come to look for us. I can walk, Jeff, really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, and they’d be so scared if they saw me being carried.”
So they started forward, the answering shouts coming nearer and nearer at every step.
“That’s Appleby,” said Percy, as a particularly loud whoop fell on their ears. It was, and with him Mr Rimbolt and Scarfe.
When darkness came, and no signs of the pedestrians, the usual uneasiness had prevailed at Wildtree, increased considerably by Walker’s and Raby’s report as to the mountaineering garb in which the missing ones had started. The terrible tempest which had attacked the face of Wild Pike had swept over Wildtree too, and added a hundredfold to the alarm which, as hour passed hour, their absence caused. Scarfe, arriving at home about ten o’clock, found the whole family in a state of panic. Mr Rimbolt had been out on the lower slopes of the mountain, and reported that a storm raged there before which nothing could stand. The only hope was that they had been descending the back of the mountain, and taken refuge somewhere in the valley for the night. The carriage was ordered out, and Mr Rimbolt and Scarfe started on what seemed a forlorn hope. For an hour or two they passed and repassed the valley road, inquiring at every cottage and farm without result.
At last, just as they were resolving to give it up for the night, Appleby pulled up the horses suddenly, and said he had heard a shout. Instantly they jumped out and shouted back; and now, following the direction of the voice, far up the great slope, they met Jeffreys, with the boy leaning on his arm safe, but almost exhausted.