"If we go up one way to meet him he will come down the other," said
Uncle Bob. "There's nothing for it but to wait till morning or divide,
and one of us go up one side while the other two go up the other."

Uncle Jack snapped his watch-case down after examining the face by the
pale light of the moon.

"Two o'clock," he said, throwing himself on the loose shale. "Ten
minutes ago, when we were in doubt, I felt as if I could go on for hours
with the search. Now I know that poor old Dick is alive I can't walk
another yard."

I had slipped and scrambled down to him now, and Uncle Bob turned to me.

"How are you, Cob?" he said.

"The skin is off one of my heels, and I have a blister on my big toe."

"And I'm dead beat," said Uncle Bob, sinking down. "You're right, Jack,
we must have a rest. Let's wait till it's light. It will be broad day
by four o'clock, and we can signal to him which way to come."

I nestled down close to him, relieved in mind and body, and I was just
thinking that though scraps of slaty stone and brashy earth were not
good things for stuffing a feather-bed, they were, all the same, very
comfortable for a weary person to lie upon, when I felt a hand laid upon
my shoulder, and opening my eyes found the sun shining brightly and
Uncle Dick looking down in my face.

"Have I been asleep?" I said confusedly.

"Four hours, Cob," said Uncle Jack. "You lay down at two. It is now
six."

"But I dreamed something about you, Uncle Dick," I said confusedly. "I
thought you were lost."

"Well, not exactly lost, Cob," he said; "but I slipped over that
tremendous slope up yonder, and came down with a rush, stunning myself
and making a lot of bruises that are very sore. I must have come down a
terrible distance, and I lay, I suppose, for a couple of hours before I
could get up and try to make my way back."

"But you are not--not broken," I cried, now thoroughly awake and holding
his hand.

"No, Cob," he said smiling; "not broken, but starving and very faint."

A three miles' walk took us to where we obtained a very hearty
breakfast, and here the farmer willingly drove us to the nearest
station, from whence by a roundabout way we journeyed back to
Arrowfield, and found the landlady in conference with Mr Tomplin, who
had come to our place on receiving a message from Mrs Stephenson that
we had gone down to the works and not returned, her impression being
that the men had drowned us all in the dam.