The other boats rowed swiftly round to the firing, and he could imagine them clustered there in a bunch, watching hopefully for him to come out; and his blood boiled and chilled again at thought of what might have been if he had been caught napping.

And then, seizing his chance, he crawled to the opposite side of his hollow, peeped over, and saw the way clear.  If only they would go on peppering the bee-hive for another minute or two, he would have time to slip down the Sark side of his rock and get to the great wall, and so down into his new hiding-place.

If they tried to land, he could perhaps kill or wound two, three, half-a-dozen, at risk of his own life.  But the end would be the same.  With a dozen good shots coolly potting at him, he must go down in time, and he had no desire either to kill or to be killed.

He wormed himself over the edge of his hollow and hurried along to the tumbled rocks, carrying his gun and powder-flask—­not that he wanted them, but wanted still less to leave them behind.  He scrambled over, found his marked rocks, and slipped safely under the overhanging slab.  There he could peep out without danger of being seen; and he was barely under cover when the first boat came slowly round again, every bearded face intent on the rock, every eye searching for sign of him.

The other boats passed, and as each one came it seemed to him that every eye on board looked straight up into his own, and he involuntarily shrank down into the shadow of the slab.  They could not possibly see him, he was certain; and yet a thrill ran through him each time their searching glances crossed his own.

The rough jests and laughter of the boats had given way now to angry growls at his invisibility.  He could hear them cursing him as they passed, and even casting doubts on the veracity of his visitors of the previous night.  And these latter upheld their statements with such torrents of red-hot patois that, if they had come to grips and fought the matter out, he would not have been in the least surprised.

Then there came a long interval, when no boats came round.  They had probably taken their courage in their hands and landed, and were searching the island.  He dropped noiselessly into his well and clambered up into the tunnel, and lay there with only his head out.

And, sure enough, before long he heard the sound of big sea-boots climbing heavily over the rock wall, and the voices of their owners as they passed.

What would they do next, he wondered.  Would they imagine him flown, as the result of their last night’s visit?  Or would they believe him still on the island and bound to come out of his hiding-place sooner or later?  Would they give it up and go home?  Or would they leave a guard to trap him when hunger and thirst brought him out?

He lay patiently in the mouth of his tunnel till long after the last glimmer of light had faded from under the big slabs that covered in his well.  More than once he heard voices, and once they came so close that he was sure they had come upon his tracks, and he crept some distance down his tunnel to be out of sight.  But the alarm proved a false one, and the time passed very slowly.