Captain Corbet shook his head more gloomily than ever.

“Ow, sure an ye needn’t be shakin yer head that way.  Sure an haven’t ye lost hats av yer own, over an over?”

“Never,” said the captain.  “I never lost a hat.”

“Niver got one blowed off?  ’Deed an ye must have.”

“I never got one blowed off.  When the wind blowed hard I allus kep ’em tied on.”

“Well, Solomon hadn’t any tie to his, an it cud tumble off his old pate asy enough, so it cud.  Sure he’s lost it jumpin over the rocks.  Besides, where’s his basket?”

“At the bottom, no doubt.”

“Sure an it cud float.”

“No; I dar say it was full of lobsters.”

“Any how, I’ll not believe he’s gone till I see him,” cried Pat, earnestly.  “Seein’s believin.”

“Ef he’s gone,” said Captain Corbet, more solemnly than ever, “ye’ll never see him.  These waters take too good care of a man for that.”

“Well, yer all givin up too soon,” said Pat.  “Come along now; there’s lots of places yet to examin.  Give one of yer loudest yells.”

Captain Corbet did so.  In spite of his despondency as to poor old Solomon’s fate, he was not at all unwilling to try any further chances.  On this occasion he seemed to gain unusual energy out of his very despair; and the yell that burst from him was so high, so shrill, so piercing, and so far penetrating, that the former cries were nothing compared to it.

“Well done!” cried Pat.  “Sure an you bet yerself that time, out an out.”

“Stop!” cried Phil.  “Listen.  What’s that?”

Far away, as they listened, they heard a faint cry, that seemed like a response.

“Is that the echo?” asked Phil, anxiously.

“Niver an echo!” cried Pat, excitedly.  “Shout agin, captain, darlin.”

Captain Corbet gave another shout as loud and as shrill as the preceding one.

They listened anxiously.

Again they heard the cry.  It was faint and far off; yet it was unmistakably a human cry.  Their excitement now grew intense.

“Where did it come from?” cried Phil.

“Wal, it kine o’ seemed to me that it came back thar,” said the captain, pointing to the woods.

“’Deed an it didn’t,” cried Pat; “not a bit of it.  It was from the shore, jest ahead; from the pint, so it was, or I’m a nagur.”

“I think it came from the shore, too,” said Phil; “but it seemed to be behind us.”

“Niver a bit,” cried Pat; “not back there.  We’ve been there, an whoever it was wud have shouted afore, so he wud.  No, it’s ahead at the pint.  He’s jest heard us, an he’s shoutin afther us.  Hooray!  Hurry up, an we’ll be there in time to save him.”

Pat’s confidence was not without its effect on the others.  Without waiting any longer, they at once set off at a run, stopping at intervals to yell, and then listening for a response.  To their delight, that response came over and over again; and to their still greater joy, the sound each time was evidently louder.