“But why did you come here with him that night?” demanded Ruth.
“’Cause I was foolish. I didn’t know he was so bad then. I thought he’d really help me. He told me Jennie’s aunt had written to my uncle––”
“Old Bill Hicks,” remarked Tom, chuckling.
“Yes. I’m Jane Hicks. I’m not Nita,” said the girl, gulping down something like a sob.
“We read all about you in the paper,” said Helen, soothingly. “Don’t you mind.”
“And your uncle’s come, and he’s just as anxious to see you as he can be,” declared Ruth.
“So they did send for him?” cried Jane Ann.
“No. Crab wrote a letter to Silver Ranch himself. He got you out here so as to be sure to collect five hundred dollars from your uncle before he gave you up,” grunted Tom. “Nice mess of things you made by running off from us.”
“Oh, I’ll go back with Uncle Bill–I will, indeed,” said the girl. “I’ve been so lonely and scared out here. Seems to me every time the tide rose, I’d be drowned in that cave. The sea’s horrid, I think! I never want to see it again.”
“Well,” Tom observed, “I guess you won’t have to worry about Crab any more. Get aboard the catboat. We’ll slip ashore mighty easy now, and let him whistle for you–or the money. Mr. Hicks won’t have to pay for getting you back.”