They seemed, indeed, inhabitants of every clime. And though they looked sharply at the woman and child, no one molested them.
"Are you rested now? Shall we go home?"
"Oh, I do hope Uncle Jason is there. What if he had come to the fire and was killed!"
"Hush, dear! Don't think of such a thing."
What would she do alone with the child if any untoward accident happened to him? She shuddered!
They picked their way over strange places, but they still saw the black smoke of the holocaust going skyward. Miss Holmes kept one or two objective points in mind. True, streets had been laid out, but they were overgrown with brush and the rampant cactus, with tangles of vines. In some places they had begun to wither. Rabbits scurried hither and thither, amazed at the steps. Birds were still carolling as if there was naught but joy in the world.
"And I am so hungry! Oh, when will we get home? Suppose we are lost?" complained the child wearily.
"I think we have been lost, but now I see where we are," the elder exclaimed, in a hopeful tone. "It is not far. And then we will have a nice supper. Poor, tired little girl, I wish I could carry you."
"Oh, you couldn't," and there was a sound in her voice as if she had smiled. "But if it isn't much farther—my legs feel as if they would drop off."
"We have come ever so much out of our way. I could not see in the crowd, and it pushed one about so. I never want to see another fire."