But after some minutes--not more than five probably, though it seemed more like five hours--had passed the silence and strain grew unbearable to Duke. He peeped at Pamela; her eyes were closed, she looked so dreadfully white!--his heart gave such a thump that he looked round for a moment in terror, it seemed to him such a loud noise,--what could make her look so? Could the fear and the pain have killed her? "Pamela," he whispered, in what he meant to be a very low whisper indeed; "Oh, sister, are you dead?" Her eyelids fluttered a little, and she half opened them. "No, bruvver; at least I don't fink so," she said, and her whisper was very faint without her trying to make it so, for she was really quite exhausted. "I wasn't sure a minute ago, but I fink now I'm only dying. But don't speak, for the snakes might hear." "They're asleep, he said," returned Duke, with a sob of anguish at Pamela's words. "But some might be awake. If it wasn't for that, oh, bruvver, you might run away, and perhaps you'd get safe home. Couldn't you _try_, bruvver?" and Pamela half raised herself on her arm. "And leave _you_, sister!" cried Duke indignantly, forgetting to whisper; "how could you think I'd ever do such a thing? If I could _carry_ you--oh what a pity it is I'm not much bigger than you!" "You couldn't carry _me_," said Pamela feebly, and her head sank back again; "and the snakes would hear us and catch us. But oh, bruvver, I'm afraid I'll be quite dead before the man comes back again, and yet I don't want him to come." Almost in despair Duke sat up and looked round for any possibility of help. It was nearer than he thought; and yet when a voice, apparently a very little way off, called out, as if in answer to his unspoken appeal-- "I'm a-coming. Don't ye be afeared," he started with new terror. "A snake!--Oh, sister, can it be a snake?" he cried wildly, for there was nothing to be seen. "Snakes don't talk, as ever I heard on," said the voice again, and this time it was accompanied by a merry laugh, which brought great comfort to poor Duke. And in another moment the mystery was explained. From behind some stubble a few yards off rose the figure of the young boy whom the children had seen walking behind the gipsies--whistling while he cut at a branch he held in his hand--from their point of observation in Spy Tower. His face was tanned and freckled by the sun, but his fair hair and bright blue eyes showed that he was not by birth one of the dark-skinned tribe; and something in the bright smile, showing a row of teeth as white and even as Duke's own, and in the cheerful voice, at once gained the little boy's confidence. [Illustration: FROM BEHIND SOME STUBBLE A FEW YARDS OFF ROSE THE FIGURE OF THE YOUNG BOY WHOM THE CHILDREN HAD SEEN WALKING BEHIND THE GIPSIES--WHISTLING WHILE HE CUT AT A BRANCH HE HELD IN HIS HAND.--p. 74.]