He could hear them cursing him as they
passed, and even casting doubts on the veracity of his visitors of the
previous night. And these latter upheld their statements with such
torrents of red-hot patois that, if they had come to grips and fought
the matter out, he would not have been in the least surprised.
Then there came a long interval, when no boats came round. They had
probably taken their courage in their hands and landed, and were
searching the island. He dropped noiselessly into his well and clambered
up into the tunnel, and lay there with only his head out.
And, sure enough, before long he heard the sound of big sea-boots
climbing heavily over the rock wall, and the voices of their owners as
they passed.
What would they do next, he wondered. Would they imagine him flown, as
the result of their last night's visit? Or would they believe him still
on the island and bound to come out of his hiding-place sooner or later?
Would they give it up and go home? Or would they leave a guard to trap
him when hunger and thirst brought him out?
He lay patiently in the mouth of his tunnel till long after the last
glimmer of light had faded from under the big slabs that covered in his
well.
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