"He was going down to the boat," she said, loyally repressing the fact that the Urchin had bolted. "We must go after him, for he had hurt his head, and I am afraid of his falling again."
They climbed the rock barrier, and made their way to the boat. The boat lay there as it had been left, half ashore, with the swell rippling against the stern, and over one thwart the Urchin's jacket, just as he had thrown it down. And the boat was as empty as the cave.
Into Fiona's eyes came a sudden fear.
"He must have fallen again, and be lying somewhere," she said.
They went back, searching every nook and corner of the cave, turning the light into every crevice, under every rock, making a minute examination of the rock barrier; and there was no sign.
And then Fiona broke down.
"He is drowned," she said, and just sat and sobbed.
After a few moments the old man came and sat down beside her. In his gentle voice he said that the Urchin could not possibly be drowned. The water was quite shallow at the edge, and he was a good swimmer, was he not? And even if he had not been, the swell would have rolled him ashore. He himself had no doubt that all would come right.
Fiona ceased sobbing and turned on him.
"Do you know where he is?" she demanded bluntly.