"It's a piece of luck!"
"Of flotsam, you mean!"
"Three cheers for the beacon!"
"Hip, hip, hip, hooray!"
"Hooray! Hooray!" echoed Dulcie, then she looked round, and suddenly touched Deirdre on the arm.
In the midst of the general excitement Gerda had vanished. Where had she gone? That was the question which the chums at once asked each other. It was impossible that in so short a space of time she could have scaled the steep path from the cove on to the top of the cliff. She must surely have run along the shore instead. To the east the great mass of crags formed an impassable barrier, but it was just practicable to round the headland to the west. Without a moment's delay they dashed off in that direction. They tore in hot haste over the wet sand, scrambled anyhow amongst the seaweed-covered rocks at the point, regardless of injury to clothing, and, valiantly leaping a narrow channel, turned the corner, and found themselves in a second cove, similar to the former, but larger and more inaccessible from the cliffs. They were rewarded for their promptitude, as the first sight that caught their eyes was Gerda, speeding along several hundred yards in front of them, as if she had some definite object in view.
"Shall I shout after her?" gasped Dulcie.
"Not for the world," returned Deirdre. "We mustn't let her know she's being followed."
"If she looks back, she'll see us."
"We'll hide behind this rock."