For Percy or any of the rest he might probably have stayed where he was; but for the one boy in Fellsgarth he oared about he would cheerfully go over a precipice.
Every now and again he stood still and shouted.

But in the wind and rain it was impossible to say if any one heard him or called again.
After an hour or more he found himself on the first ridge, where for a few yards the ground is level before it rises again.

Here he called again, once or twice.

Once there came, as he thought, a faint distant whistle, but by no manner of calling could he get it to come again.

He started off in the direction from which it seemed to come, calling all the way, but never a voice came out of the darkness.