"Yes, they must have. We three are known all over the place. And I ran
to tell you."

"So I see," he said grimly. "You seem to have run like a
tea-ship. Well, you needn't have. There's no cave on this side
Salcombe, except the hole at Tor Cross. What made you run to tell
_me?_"

"Oh," I said, "you've been so kind--so kind, and--I don't know--I
thought they'd send you to prison."

"Did you?" he said gruffly. "Did you indeed? Well, they won't. There
was no call for you to fret your little self. Still, you've done it;
I'll remember that--I'll always remember that. Now you be off to your
tea, quick. Cut!"

When he gave an order it was always well for us to obey it at once; if
we did not he used to lose his temper. So when he told me to go I got
up and turned away, but slowly, for I was still out of breath. I
looked back before I passed behind the hedge which marks the beginning
of the combe, but Marah had disappeared--I could see no trace of
him. Then suddenly, from somewhere behind me, out of sight, an owl
called--and this in broad daylight. Three times the "Too-hoo, too-hoo"
rose in a long wail from the shrubs, and three times another owl
answered from up the combe, and from up the valley, too, till the
place seemed full of owls. "Too-hoo, too-hoo" came the cries, and very
faintly came answers--some of them in strange tones, as though the
criers asked for information. As they sounded, the first owl answered
in sharp, broken cries. But I had had enough. Breathless as I was, I