“Why you not call to me?” demanded Miranda.
“There was really no reason to call for help, you see, as nothing had happened. So, just to pass the time until Doctor Miranda came back, I walked along the edge of the lake, feeling very miserable, I confess, wondering what had become of Mr. Meudon, and wishing that we were all out of this terrible country and back in Rysdale. At first, there was nothing to alarm me particularly; but the more I thought about the disappearance of Mr. Meudon the more nervous I became. And then, just as I was wondering if we would ever find him, and feeling more uneasy at the strange silence of that melancholy lake——”
“Caramba! You would have the lake to talk?”
“I—I heard footsteps among the rocks behind me.”
“A sightseer from Bogota, I suppose,” suggested Leighton.
“No, it was not exactly that—at least, I don’t think so. But at first I really didn’t turn around to see. I just kept on looking at the lake and going over some of the terrible stories I had heard about it.”
“You see, this leetle fellow was quite mad with the fright,” interjected Miranda. “He dream. He hear, he see nothing. Nobody was there. I know.”
“I think, Sir, you are mistaken,” protested the schoolmaster. “I admit I was nervous. But I was perfectly sane—and I was not asleep.”
“Of course you were not asleep, Mr. Parmelee,” said Una soothingly. “As for being nervous—any one would have been nervous.”
“Well?” inquired Leighton impatiently.