“Well, if he does, he will be sure to tell you,” said Cicely sleepily. And that was the last she knew for a long time.
In the middle of the night, Cicely suddenly opened her eyes and sat up in bed. The woods outside were very still; but something was moving in the tent.
“Nancy! Are you asleep?” whispered Cicely. The moon shone in through the door-flap and Cicely saw her cousin creeping mysteriously about the floor. “What is the matter, Nancy?” asked Cicely again.
“I’m trying to find my moccasins. I’m going out to look for Patsy. I’m sure I can find him in the moonlight,” Nancy answered in the same whisper. “I can’t stand it, Cicely!”
“But it’s the middle of the night!” Cicely’s voice faltered. “Wait till morning, Nancy, do.”
“I can’t wait till morning,” Nancy said; and Cicely knew she had been crying by the sound of her voice. “I must go now.”
“Then I’ll go too,” sighed Cicely, loyal, though her heart balked at the idea of braving this American wilderness in the dead of night.
The two girls slipped moccasins on their bare feet and threw on their dressing-gowns; then stole out of the tent into the moonlight, which silvered everything with a magic touch. The whole lit-up world looked wonderfully beautiful. But the shadows were blacker than ever, by the same charm. It did not seem like the world they knew by day.
They crept carefully by the sleeping tents. In the door of the third one stood a little figure, white and fairy-like, looking out into the woods with big eyes. “Why, it’s Anne Poole!” Nancy whispered to Cicely who clung to her hand. “She isn’t asleep, either!”
Anne joined them immediately. “You are going to look for Patsy?” she said. “I thought of doing that, too. But I wouldn’t have dared go alone. May I come? He is such a darling kitty!”