worked hard and the day was one of the most tiring they had yet experienced. Nevertheless it would have passed without adventure, had not Gordon noticed that the dog had disappeared.
Generally, at meal-times, Fan was to be found near her master's seat, but now her place was empty.
They called Fan. Fan did not answer. Gordon went to the door. He called her again. Complete silence.
Donagan and Wilcox went out, one along the bank of the stream, the other along the shore of the lake — but they found no trace of the dog.
In vain was the search extended for a few hundred yards round French Den. Fan was not to be found. It was evident that the dog was not within call, for if she had been, she would have answered. Had she strayed away? That was unlikely. Had she perished in the jaws of some wild beast? That was possible, and it was the best explanation of her disappearance that offered.
It was nine o'clock at night. Thick darkness enveloped the cliff and the lake. The search had to be given up.
The boys went back to the cave. They were uneasy, and not only uneasy, but grieved to think that the dog had vanished, perhaps for ever.
Some stretched themselves on their beds, others sat round the table, not thinking of sleep. It seemed that they were more alone than ever, more forsaken, more removed from the country and their friends. Suddenly in the silence the noise broke out afresh. This time there was a long howl, and a cry of pain lasting for nearly a minute.
"It is from over there, over there, that it comes!" exclaimed Briant, rushing to the tunnel.
They all rose as if waiting for a ghost. Terror had seized upon the little ones, who hid themselves under their bed-clothes.
When Briant came back he said, —
