Then, as he continued to press hastily forward, he once more caught the beseeching cry.

It had an agonizing strain to it, and Hugh could plainly make out the words: "Help! Oh! help! help!" Someone was evidently in trouble, Hugh decided, accelerating his pace as well as the conditions of the rough surface of the ground permitted.
He had taken pains to locate the cry this time, and was, therefore, altering his course just a little.
Again he called, and once more received a reply, more fearful than before: "Hurry! Oh! hurry, before it gives way, and I'm lost!" It sounded more like the voice of a girl than anything else.

Hugh was thrilled at the bare thought of one of the opposite sex being caught in a trap whereby life itself was imperiled.

He had been ascending all this time.

From a single look, which he cast over his shoulder, he could see the road he had lately come along, trace his course, in fact, until it was lost at a bend half a mile away.
He noted that a runner had just turned that bend, and was jogging along in a rhythmic, contented fashion, as though satisfied with the progress he was making; although "Just" Smith would have to speed up considerable on the morrow if he wished to be anywhere near the head of the procession when the race neared its close.