He proceeded with his task, however, searching methodically amongst the rocks, scanning the pebbly beach with his torch, always amazed that nowhere could he find the slightest trace of what he sought.

Finally, drenched to the skin and utterly exhausted, he commenced once more the upward climb.

He was an hour reaching the end of the rope.

Then he blew the whistle and the rest was easy.

Nevertheless, when the paling came into sight and he felt Robert's arms under his shoulders, he reeled over towards the seat and lay there, his clothes caked in red mud, the knees of his knickerbockers cut, blood on his hands and forehead, breathless.