"Grip! Grip!" But, as the dog would not come to her, she went on, knowing perfectly well that he had gone down one of the old stone pits, and quite prepared to stand at last gazing into a hole which inclined rapidly into the hillside, but was as usual provided with rough stones placed step-wise, and leading the way into darkness beneath a fern-fringed arch, while the whole place was almost entirely choked-up with the luxuriantly growing brambles.
"He has found a rabbit," she thought to herself, as her eyes wandered about the sides of the pit, and brightened at the sight of the abundant clusters of blackberries, finer and riper than any she had yet secured.
"I wish I was not so frightened of these places," she said to herself.
"Why, I could fill a basket here, and there can't be anything to mind, I know; it is only where they used to dig out the stone." A sudden burst of barking took her attention to the dog, who came bounding up the rugged steps right to her feet, looked at her with his great intelligent eyes, and, before she could stop him, rushed down again, where she could hear him scratching, and there was a sound which she knew was caused by his moving a piece of stone such as she could see lying at the side in broken fragments, and of the kind dug in thin layers, and used in the neighbourhood instead of tiles.
"Oh, Grip, Grip! And you know you can't get at him.

Come here." "Ahoy!" Celia was leaning over the rugged steps, gazing down into the darkness beneath the ferns, when, in a faint, smothered, distant way, there came this hail, making her nearly drop her basket as she started away from the pit.
The hail was followed by a sharp burst of barking, and the dog came bounding up again, to stand looking after her, barking again before once more descending.
Slowly, and with her eyes dilated and strained, the girl crept back step by step, as she withstood her desire to run away, for all at once the thought had come that perhaps some shepherd or labourer had fallen down to the bottom, and was perhaps lying here with a broken leg.
She had heard of such things, and it would be very terrible, but she must know now, and then go for help.
In this spirit she once more reached the entrance to the old quarry, and peered down, listening to the worrying sound made by the dog, who kept rattling one piece of stone over another, every now and then giving a short, snapping bark.
"Ahoy!" came again, as if from a distance, and a thrill ran through the girl, bringing with it a glow of courage.
"It is some poor fellow fallen down;" and, placing her basket by the side, she began to descend cautiously, with Grip rushing to meet her, barking now joyously, and uttering whine after whine.
The descent was not difficult, and after the first few steps the feeling of timidity began to wear off, and Celia descended more quickly till, about fifty feet from the top, some distance under where the fringe of ferns hung, and where it had seemed quite dark from above, but was really a pleasant greenish twilight, she found beneath her feet a few loose flat stones, part of a quantity lying before her in the archway that seemed to lead straight on into the quarry.
But here, right at her feet, the dog began to scratch, tossing one thin piece of stone over the others upon which it lay.
Celia looked before her wonderingly, for she had expected to see a fallen man at once, probably some one of the men whom she knew by sight; but, in spite of the dog's scratching, she could not imagine anything was there, and she was bending forward, gazing into the half choked-up level passage before her, when there came from under her feet the same smothered,-- "Ahoy!" She started away, clinging to the side for support, and ready in her fear to rush back to the surface.
But the dog's action brought her to herself, as he began again to bark furiously, and tore at the stones.
"Hush! Quiet, Grip!" she said in an awe-stricken whisper, as she went down on her knees and listened, her heart beating wildly, and a horrible idea, all confused, of some one having been buried alive, making her face turn ashy pale.
"Ahoy! Any one there ?" came in the same faint tones.
"Yes--yes," panted the girl.

"What is it ?" "Help!" And then, more loudly,-- "Let me out, pray." "Oh," moaned the girl, "what does it mean ?" "Ahoy there!" came more plainly now.

"Whoever you are, get a boat, and go off to the cutter _White Hawk_.

Can you hear ?" "Yes, yes," said the girl huskily, as a horrible suspicion ran through her mind.
"Tell Lieutenant Brough that Mr Raystoke is a prisoner, kept by the smugglers, and then show his men the way here." There was a pause, for Celia could make no reply; she knew who Mr Raystoke was, and it seemed horrible to her that the frank, good-looking young midshipman should be kept a prisoner in such a tomb-like place as that.
"Don't, don't say you will not go!" came up in the smothered tones.
"You shall have a reward." "As if I wanted a reward!" panted Celia.