The other two, half drunk, and wholly stupefied, perceiving that things were going somewhat crookedly, departed as quickly as they could, making for the camp at Carnunda. Our rescuer had a mind to follow them, but Ann laid a restraining hand upon his arm. “Oh, Dio bach,” {115} she said, “I am glad to see you this time, if I never was before.” And she really looked as if she could have kissed him. “Nancy, how came you here; why didn’t you go away with the rest?” asked Davy Jones, abruptly, his voice rough and angry. He had had too great a scare to be tender or even civil. “Why, I had to stop and see to everything—and the silver spoons,” said Nancy, quite meekly. “Hang the silver spoons,” said Davy. “Now what’s to be done with this carcase?” And he pointed to the unconscious Frenchman. “Get out of the way, Nancy, and I’ll shove him over the cliff.” “No, no, don’t waste time,” exclaimed Nancy; “we’ll have the whole lot after us in a minute; they’re as thick as ants on Carnunda. How can we get away?” “Down the cliff as fast as you can. I’ve got a boat down below; if we can get to the caves we’ll do; but I had some of them after me a little while ago, and I landed here to get rid of them, and to find out what had become of you, for Llewelyn of Brestgarn told me you were somewhere near.” “Llewelyn is a prisoner; did you see him? Is he safe?” asked Nancy, as we hurried along. “Hush, quick and quiet; I’ll tell you in the boat,” whispered Davy. We plunged down through dry bracken, gorse bushes, and large boulders of stone, interspersed with steep pieces of cliff. We jumped, slid, and tumbled down, clutching hold of grasses and ferns to stay our speed, and in a few moments we had reached the level of the sea. The boat had been so cunningly hidden—with the dexterity of constant practice—that Nan and I quite failed to discover it. Davy, however, had it out in a trice. “Jump in, boy, and give a hand to Nancy.” Nancy did not require a hand, she jumped in very steadily, and took the rudder. Davy threw me one oar, took the other himself, and we were off, stealing noiselessly along under the great cliffs, where darkness still dwelt. But the sky over our heads grew lighter every moment, and we ruefully perceived that ere long it would be broad day. Yet it seemed safer to be on the water than on the land, where we could even now discern dim figures looking for us. “Ah, what is that?” in a horror-struck whisper from Ann. _That_ was a dark blue object, very unpleasing to behold, sodden with water, and wedged in a crevice of the cliffs. “That is one of them,” said Davy, grimly, “cleft to the chin by a scythe in a Welshman’s hands. The ruffians had burnt his cottage, with his old mother in it; he caught this one, that’s all. I wish I had served that fellow up there the same, Nancy.” “Where have you been, Davy?” I asked, to divert his remorseful thoughts, and unable to restrain my curiosity.