I shook him very heartily by the hand and clapped him on the back and told him how much we were indebted to him, and how it was his prompt warning that enabled me to get across to Herm before they set their patrol boats--and very briefly of what had passed and was toward, and so left him, content and cheerful.
My mother would have added to our supplies, but we had as much as we could carry, and enough, we thought, for the term of our probable imprisonment.
So we bade her farewell, and went on across the fields, past La Moinerie towards the Eperquerie.
"We are going to the Boutiques," I said.
"My Boutiques," said Uncle George, with a laugh.

And, instead of going on to that dark chasm whose steep black walls and upstanding boulders lead one precariously into the caves with which we were familiar, he turned aside to another narrower gash in the tumbled rocks, and we stood on the brink wondering where he would take us.

For, well as we knew the nooks and crannies thereabouts, we had never found entrance here.
We stood looking down into the narrow chasm.

The tide was still churning among its slabs and boulders, and the inner end showed no opening into the cliff, nothing but piles of rounded pebbles and stranded tangles of vraic.
We thought he had made a mistake.
But he looked quietly down into the boiling pot below, and said, "We have still an hour to wait.

The tide is higher than I thought." So we sat on the short salt turf and waited.
"Tiens!" said Carette, pointing suddenly.