sweet salt sunlit air, as we stood in the
water-worn chasm and blinked at the light, while Uncle George carefully
closed his door. We took long deep draughts of it, and felt uplifted and
almost light-headed.

"It is resurrection," said Carette; and as we climbed out of the cleft and
took our way quickly among the great gorse cushions along Eperquerie, the
dull sound of firing on Herm came to us on the west wind.

CHAPTER XXXVI

HOW A STORM CAME OUT OF THE WEST

"Thank God, you have escaped them!" was my mother's grateful greeting as we
came into Belfontaine. "But you have suffered! You are starving?"

"Not a bit, little mother," chirped Carette, as they kissed very warmly.
"We have been quite happy, though, ma fe, it was as dark and still as the
tomb, and there is a spring in there that is enough to frighten one into a
fit. And George Hamon here is trying to make us believe this is only
Thursday, and it is certain we have been in there at least a week."

"It is only Thursday," smiled my mother. "But the time must have seemed
long in the dark and all by yourselves."

"Oh, we didn't mind being by ourselves, not a bit, and we never quarrelled
once. But, ma fe, yes, it was dark, and so still. I could hear Phil's heart
beat when I couldn't see him."

"You both look as if you had been seeing ghosts. Is it that your arm is
paining you, Phil, mon gars?"

"Hardly at all. Carette saw to it."

"Bien! You are bleached for lack of sunshine, then."

"Mon Dieu, yes," said Carette. "I felt myself getting whiter every minute,
and we were almost starving when Uncle George came. We had been days
without food, you know, although you all say it is only Thursday;" and my
mother smiled and began to spread the table, but we showed her it was only
Carette's nonsense.

But if she was relieved on our account, she was still very anxious about
her father.

"They are fighting over there, George," she said, looking anxiously out
over the water to where Herm lay peacefully in the afternoon sunshine, and
as we stood listening, the dull sound of guns came to us again. "That means
that he got there all right?"

"Trust Philip to get there all right. And to come back all right too. I
hope they'll make an end of them," said Uncle George stoutly.

"You can never tell what will happen when fighting's afoot," she sighed.

"He'll take care of himself. Don't you worry, Rachel."

"Shall I put a fresh bandage on your head? It is hurtin