"And, by Jove, he has it! . . . Use your eyes, please; yours are better than mine. For my part, I've lost him." They sat erect in their saddles, straining their gaze over the sea. "It's hard to say--looking straight here against the sun, and with all this fog drifting about--" But here a cry, breaking almost simultaneously from a score of riders, drew his attention to the boat. "Yes, the boat--they have ceased pulling. He must have sunk!" "God rest his bones--if a Christian may say it." "Why not, ma'am?" But as he turned to her the lady turned also, bending down at a light eager touch on her stirrup. "Oh, ma'am! . . . Oh, Miss Sally!" Miss Sally stared down into the small upturned face. "Eh? . . . Now where in the world have I seen _you_ before? Why, mercy, if it ain't the child Elphinstone ran over!" CHAPTER XXII. THE VOYAGE. "_Many a green isle needs must be . . . _"--SHELLEY. The boat had given up its search, and returned to shore. The hunt had wound back up the coombe in a body, and thence homeward in the failing light over the heather, breaking up into small parties as their ways parted, and calling good nights after the best run of the season. But Miss Sally and Parson Chichester sat talking in the best parlour at Inistow, and still sat on while the level sunset shone blood-red through the geraniums on the window-ledge, and faded and gave place to twilight. They had heard the children's story; had turned it inside out and upside down, cross-questioning them both; and had ended by dismissing them for the time. To-morrow, Miss Sally promised, Farmer Tossell should be as good as his word, and ride them over to Culvercoombe, where perhaps she might have a few more questions to put to them. For the present she and Mr. Chichester had enough to talk over. The interview had lasted a good hour, and Arthur Miles was glad to regain his liberty. The boy's manner had been polite enough, but constrained. He had stripped and shown the mark on his shoulder; he had answered all questions truthfully, and Miss Sally's readily--with the Parson he had been less at home--but he had managed to convey the impression that he found the whole business something of a bore; and, indeed, he asked himself, Where was the point of it? If only, instead of asking questions, they would take him to the Island now! . . . But when he would have followed Tilda from the room, she took hold of him, pushed him out, and closing the door upon him, turned back and walked up to the two elders where they sat. "You mus'n' judge Arthur Miles by to-day," she pleaded, meeting the amused, expectant twinkle in Miss Sally's eye. "'E didn't show at 'is best--along of _'im_." She nodded towards the Parson. "Eh, to be sure," said Mr. Chichester, "what you may call my _locus standi_ in this affair is just nothing at all. If the child had demanded my right to be putting questions to him, 'faith, I don't know what I could have answered."