Mr Meadows shuddered. They were so near, that he felt that they must hear them if they moved; and still he knew that in another few minutes they would trample upon him and the woman in their downward progress. It must be done; the attempt must be made; and after turning and gazing at the convicts, he bent down towards the pale face at his side. He had no occasion to speak; for he read in her looks that she had heard every sound. He dared not trust himself to state his wishes, but pointed along the track so plainly marked through the long grass, here abundant; and slowly the woman rose to her knees, then, with a slight rustling, to her feet, and began to glide gently away. Mr Meadows could not watch her, but dared only to keep his eyes fixed upon those of one of the seated convicts, just seen through the leaves; when, to his consternation, he saw him shift his position so as to gaze, as it were, right in his watcher's face, till, trembling with dread, Mr Meadows's eyelids sunk, and he knelt there motionless. When he again unclosed his eyes, the man had ceased to look in his direction; and then, calling up his strength, he slowly backed, inch by inch, upon his hands and knees, till the descending nature of the ground took him below the edge which overhung the depression where the convicts were seated. Then, and then only, he raised himself gradually into a stooping position, listened attentively, and, with beating heart, began softly, step by step, to follow the woman, whose own retreat he tried vainly to hear. Gradually he set down each foot, lest a sound should follow, holding his breath, and pressing a hand upon his heart to stay its throbbings; when, accelerating his pace, he strode on to overtake the woman, whom he could now see hurrying down from stone to stone, or along the well-marked grassy track, with fear-given wings. He trembled lest she should miss the track in her fright; but no, she kept to it without deviating, until she reached the spot where Mr Meadows left his gun; and there he overtook her. What was to be his course? Should they proceed farther up the Gap, or down towards the ruins? Friends should be coming from either way, unless they had returned, and passed downwards, giving up the search so far, until joined by the expected reinforcements. He was woodman enough, though, from his long residence in the colony, to be able, in a short time, to determine whether his companions had returned. Though the upward tracks were easy to find, no descending footprints could he discover; but a joyful cry was half uttered as twice he came upon a broken twig, which told him of the promise of Edward Murray, and showed that he had passed in that direction. There needed now but little reflection for Mr Meadows to decide what course would be the best. Up the valley there were certainly friends; down the valley there might be; but it was uncertain.