they thought they heard a faint cry in answer to their call,
far down the valley. They were right: the children had heard the
shouting, and had replied to it. But they were far off. The young men
shouted again, but there was no answer; and after shouting once more
without success, they hastened on. When they reached David Dunster's
house, they found the door open, and no one within. They knew that David
had set off in quest of the children himself, and they determined to
descend the valley. The distracted mother went with them, crying
silently to herself, and praying inwardly, and every now and then trying
to shout. But the young men raised their strong voices above hers, and
made the cliffs echo with their appeals.

Anon a voice answered them down the valley. They ran on as well as the
darkness would let them, and soon found that it was David Dunster, who
had been in the plantations on the other side of the valley; but hearing
nothing of the lost children, now joined them. He said he had heard the
cry from the hill side farther down, that answered to their shouts; and
he was sure that it was his boy David's voice. But he had shouted again,
and there had been no answer but a wild scream as of terror, that made
his blood run cold.

"O God!" exclaimed the distracted mother, "what can it be! David!
David! Jane Nancy!"

There was no answer. The young men bade Betty Dunster to contain
herself, and they would find the children before they went home again.
All held on down the valley, and in the direction whence the voice came.
Many times did the young men and the now strongly agitated father shout
and listen. At length they seemed to hear voices of weeping and moaning.
They listened--they were sure they heard a lamenting--it could only be
the children. But why then did they not answer? On struggled the men,
and Mrs. Dunster followed wildly after. Now, again, they stood and
shouted, and a kind of terrified scream followed the shout.

"God in heaven!" exclaimed the mother; "what is it? There is something
dreadful. My children! my children! where are you?"

"Be silent, pray do, Mrs. Dunster," said one of the young men, "or we
can not catch the sounds so as to follow them." They again listened, and
the wailings of the children were plainly heard. The whole party pushed
forward over stock and stone up the hill. They called again, and there
was a cry of "Here! here! fayther! mother! where are you?"

In a few moments more the