Percy was evidently abroad, probably waiting for her up at Kennedy's lodge.

So she hurried back.

As soon as she had disappeared beyond the bridge, the two men put their pipes into their pockets.
"If they've begun looking for him we'd best sheer off, Corporal." "That's right," replied Corporal--"at once." Whereupon they descended from their perches, and having looked carefully up and down, unlocked the dungeon door.
Their prisoner was lying so still and motionless, that for an instant they had their misgivings as to whether the gag had not been a trifle too much for his respiration.

But a moment's examination satisfied them the boy was alive--much to their relief.
The sack was once more brought into requisition, and turned out to be a great deal larger than it looked, for it was found quite roomy enough to accommodate the whole of the person of Percy Rimbolt, who in this dignified retreat quitted the scene of his labours on the back of one of his captors.

The hut having been once more carefully padlocked, the party travelled at least a mile into the depths of the lonely woods, where at least there was no lack of shade and seclusion.
Percy was deposited somewhat unceremoniously on the ground, and left in the sack (with just sufficient aperture in the region of his nose to allow of respiration) for some hours more, unheeded by his custodians except when he attempted to move or roll over, on which occasions he was sharply reminded of his duty to his company by an unceremonious kick.
Some time later--it may have been an hour or two, or only five minutes-- he was aware of a conversation taking place outside his sack.
"Risky," said one voice.
"More risky not to do it," said the other.