At the gate of the enclosure he came to an abrupt halt.
The hogs had returned and were routing among our camp-furniture.
For the rest, the churchyard was empty. But where were Nat Fiennes
and Mr. Badcock, who had sallied out to follow them? And where was
Mr. Fett?
We rushed upon the brutes, and drove them squealing out of the
gateway leading to the woods. They took the rise of the glade at a
scamper, and were lost to us in the undergrowth. We followed,
shouting our comrades' names. No answer came back to us, though our
voices must have carried far beyond the next ridge. For an hour we
beat the wood, keeping together by my father's order, and shouting,
now singly, now in chorus. Nat, likely enough, had pressed forward
beyond earshot, and led Mr. Badcock on with him. But what had become
of Mr. Fett, who, as Billy asseverated, had promised to take but a
short stroll?
My father's frown grew darker and yet darker as the minutes wore on
and still no voice answered our hailing. The sun was declining fast
when he gave the order to return to camp, which we found as we had
left it.
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