The little girls and Davie were so glad to turn back that they asked no questions, taking it for granted that the plan was changed because there were too many thorns.
The two older ones were rather silent on the way back. They went as quickly as they could, but it was not a thing that could be done so very quickly, and Marian grew more and more nervous. Supposing the creature saw them, supposing—she jerked herself up and mentally gave herself a good scolding, but never was she so glad as when they left the mountain behind and pushed through to where the raft was tied, waiting for them.
As they pushed out and paddled back, calmness came to her. There were hard things in her pathway, dreary things to face, but, compared with what might be, her life seemed full of rosebuds and sunshine.
Four pair of bright, loving eyes looked at her; four healthy, warm, breathing little bodies would lie within reach of her touch that night. Suppose one were ever missing through her fault or carelessness, what pleasure would life hold then?
Looking back at the face of the mountain, she judged that they had climbed about a third of the way up.
It was well into the afternoon when they got home, and a hungry lot they were, too.
That night Delbert waited till he was sure the little ones were asleep and then he cautiously spoke Marian’s name.
She was awake. “What is it?”
He turned over and raised himself on his elbow.
“Do you—do you suppose—it could swim over?”