"Marjorie was bending over Estelle."
THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.
(Continued from page [71].)
CHAPTER IV.
The three children fled upstairs. The terror which lent wings to their feet grew into a panic as they flew. Perhaps the one who felt it most was Estelle. Her imagination pictured all sorts of terrible things. She was sure that the dogs, in their fury, would not recognise them, and that they would be torn to pieces. Marjorie, though her heart beat quickly, kept her senses under control, and even showed coolness enough to whisper back: 'Give them some place to escape to, Alan; they will follow us if you don't.'
The wisdom of this advice was soon shown. Acting upon it, Alan flung open the door of a room he knew to be unfurnished and empty. It did not delay him a second of time, but it gave him a courage which surprised himself. Slackening his pace so as just to keep out of sight, he stopped now and again to take a glance behind him: he was determined to see what the two men intended to do. Meantime, the door into the cellars had been forced, men and dogs tumbling over each other as the lock gave way to the united strength of the party outside. The children could hear the bay of the hounds as they bounded towards the stairs. The two girls fled on in breathless haste, but Alan had no fears that the dogs would not recognise him. Besides, he was intent on the actions of Thomas and his friend.
The howls of the dogs acted like magic on the two men. They rushed up the stairs, without a single glance behind. The danger was too pressing to allow any delay for making plans of escape. The door Alan had thrown open seemed to them the way to safety; the cheerful light of day, which shone through the begrimed windows, gave a friendly look to the empty room. Alan saw them rush in, close the door softly, and the sound of the faint creak of a rusty bolt assured him the men were safe for a time at least. He had not much leisure to think what he meant to do next, however. The hounds were up the staircase in full cry. Barely had he time to reach a door into a passage, which the girls had left open for him, when one of the dogs flung himself against it with a howl of rage; then stopping a moment to sniff about, and probably discovering that it had missed the scent of the enemy to follow that of a friend, it turned with a fierce bark, and Alan could hear it rushing down the stairs again.
Not till then did Alan perceive, as he turned in his excitement to call to his sister, that she was bending over the figure of Estelle. The little girl had fallen in a heap half-way down the long passage.
'Hullo!' he cried, startled. 'What's the matter?'
'I can't think,' returned Marjorie, looking round with a white face of alarm. 'She is so dreadfully still, and she doesn't seem to hear what I say.'