k. Go on, sir; I
feel as if it's trickling into all kinds of little holes and corners
that had got dried-up. Think it goes into your veins, because I'm
getting cosy now, right to the tips of my toes, where I was all hard and
dry."

"I've had enough now, Ned," said Jack with a sigh, as if he were sorry
to make the announcement.

"Don't say that, sir. We've got no bottles, so we must take what we
want inside. Have another drink, sir, so as to get yourself well
soaked, then you'll be able to stand a lot. I didn't like to howl about
it, so as to put you out of heart when you were as bad as me; but my
mouth was all furred inside like a tea-kettle, and as for my throat, it
was just as if it was growing up, and all hard and dry."

"That was just as I felt, Ned."

"I thought so, sir. Hah!" with a loud smack of the lips. "I've tasted
almost every kind of wine, sir, from ginger up to champagne, and I've
drunk tea and coffee, and beer, and curds and whey, thin gruel, and
cider, and perry, but the whole lot ain't worth a snap compared to a
drink of water like this; only," he added with a laugh, "you want to be
thirsty as we were first. Done, sir?"

"Yes, quite, Ned."

"Then I tell you what, Mr Jack, sir; we'll try and hunt out a snug
place somewhere close handy and have a good sleep."

"I don't feel sleepy, Ned. I want to get back and end my father's
terrible suspense."

"So do I, sir; but I put it to you--can we do anything in the dark
to-night?"

"No. There is only the satisfaction of trying."

"Yes, sir; but you have to pay a lot for it. Say we try for home now--
that's all we can do,--shan't we be less fit to-morrow?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Very well then, sir; it's a lovely night, let's have a good sleep.
Then as soon as it's light we'll set to work and eat one of these
sleeves of potatoes, come down here again, and take in water enough to
last us for the day, or till we find some more, and try all we can to
get down to the shore somehow or another. By this time to-morrow night,
if I don't find some way of showing that a white man can manage to live
where a black can, my name's not what it is."

It was rough work searching for a resting-place, and the best they could
find was upon some rough, shrubby growth, not unlike heather, in a
recess among several mighty blocks of stone. But if it had been a
spring bed, with the finest of linen, they could not have slept better,
or awoke more refreshed, when t