"Moderately," he answered. "Yet if you command me, I come; if you go, I go with you."
"Come."
Chapter IV.
THE SEARCH.
They set out hand in hand. The small dog ran with them.
Even the beginning of the descent was far from easy, for the high walls that had protected the villa-gardens of Buenos Ayres lay in heaps, cumbering the roadway, and in places obliterating it.
About a hundred and fifty yards down the road, by what had been the walled entrance to the Hakes' garden, they sighted two forlorn small figures—the six and five year old Hake children, Sophie and Miriam, who recognised Ruth and, running, clung to her skirts.
"Mamma! Where is mamma?"
"Dears, where did you leave her last?"
"She pushed us out through the gateway, here, and told us to stand in the middle of the road while she ran back to call daddy. She said no stones could fall on us here. But she has been gone ever so long, and we can't hear her calling at all."