Page:Joan, the curate.djvu/20

14 dell on their left, where the bracken grew high about the trunks of a knot of beeches.

"Eh!" cried the sailor, stopping short, also to listen. "What was that? 'Twas like the groan of a man."

As he turned his head to listen, the parson and his daughter quickly exchanged a glance expressive both of alarm and of warning. Then the former seized the sailor by the arm, pushing onward towards the shore at a better pace than ever.

"Sure," said he, in a deep, strong, resonant voice that would have drowned any fainter sound in the ears of his listener; "'tis but the screech of a hawk. This woody ground's alive with the creatures."

The man cast at him a rather suspicious look, but said nothing, and allowed himself to be led forward. So they hurried on, increasing their pace when the ground began to dip again, until they followed the course of a narrow and dark ravine, which cut its way through the cliffs to the seashore. Here they had to pick their way over the stones and bits of broken cliff, through which a brook, swollen by recent rains, gurgled noisily on its way to the sea. The tide was