"Where are we? Where can we be?" he asked himself. "What! nobody to
speak to?"

Nobody, in truth, and surely, if any native had approached, Dingo would
have scented him, and announced him by a bark. The dog went backward
and forward on the strand, his nose to the ground, his tail down,
growling secretly--certainly very singular behavior--but neither
betraying the approach of man nor of any animal whatsoever.

"Dick, look at Dingo!" said Mrs. Weldon.

"Yes, that is very strange," replied the novice. "It seems as if he
were trying to recover a scent."

"Very strange, indeed," murmured Mrs. Weldon; then, continuing, "what
is Negoro doing?" she asked.

"He is doing what Dingo is doing," replied Dick Sand. "He goes, he
comes! After all, he is free here. I have no longer the right to
control him. His service ended with the stranding of the Pilgrim.'"

In fact, Negoro surveyed the strand, turned back, and looked at the
shore and the cliff like a man trying to recall recollections and to
fix them. Did he, then, know this country? He would probably have
refused to reply to that question if it had been asked. The best thing
was still to have nothing to do with that very unsociable personage.
Dick Sand soon saw him walk from the side of the little river, and when
Negoro had disappeared on the other side of the cliff, he ceased to
think of him.