Scarlett Markham passed some hours by his father's side, listening to
his breathing in the darkness, and from time to time taking his hand as
a low moan was uttered, accompanied by a restless movement; but as the
time passed on, in spite of anxiety and his own weariness and pain, an
intense desire for food of some kind kept on attacking him, and each
time with more force.
What was he to do?
Had he been alone the task would have been simple. He would have gone
at once to the broken archway, waited his opportunity, and crept out.
Then he would have done his best to escape, and the worst that could
have happened to him would have been seizure by the enemy, who, in spite
of party hatred, would have given their prisoner food.
But he felt that he could not take this course, and risk capture, which
would mean imprisonment to his father as well.
The difficulty was solved at last by an uneasy movement on Sir Godfrey's
part. He seemed to start suddenly from sleep, and, after listening for
a few moments, Scarlett said gently--
"Are you in pain, father?"
"Ah, my boy, you there?" said Sir Godfrey, feebly. "I was puzzled and
confused. I recollect now. Have I been asleep long?"
"Yes, father, I think so. I cannot tell, for I have been asleep too."
"Where are we?"
Scarlett explained, and from time to time Sir Godfrey uttered a few
words of surprise and wonder, till his son had finished.
"I could hardly have thought it possible," he said, as Scarlett ceased.
"Then we are so far safe?"
"Yes; but your wounds, father? What am I to do about getting help?"