"I suppose we shall have to go and see what he's doing," grumbled Regina, preparing for a downward scramble.
They had almost to slide among the bushes to reach the rocks. They arrived at the bottom scratched and mudstained. There was not a trace of Derrick anywhere. Neither were the hats to be seen. The brown water swirled past carrying sticks and branches on its foaming surface. Regina looked at its hurrying course, and at the slippery bank.
"I do hope——" she began, then stopped. She had no need to finish, for the same fear was in Lesbia's eyes. Where had Derrick vanished? There was no exit from the platform where they were standing except by the way they had come.
"We—we oughtn't to have let him go," faltered Lesbia.
"Could he have climbed up there?"
"We'll go and see."
In a horrible scare the girls retraced their steps, and ran along the top of the cliff, calling "Derrick" with all the force of their lungs. There was no reply. The only sound to be heard was the roar of the water. Regina, thoroughly terrified, burst into tears.
"It's my fault if he's drowned!" she sobbed. "Oh, what are we to do?"
The girls hunted about and called for some time, then finally went home in a frantic state to raise the alarm. The first person they saw as they entered the front door was Derrick, dressed in dry clothes and munching a green apple. He bowed politely.
"Your hats are drying by the fire," he said in a nonchalant tone.