“Did you speak?” he amended, looking back at her. “Thought I heard you say something, but couldn’t quite catch it.”
His voice was as sincere as the words he had just uttered, but Dorothy’s reply was caustic.
“I said why keep the secret to yourself? All this stuff about how Terry got down and we are supposed to get up is keeping me on pins and needles. If Terry left a rope ladder or something hanging over the edge last summer, it must be gone by now.”
“No, he didn’t use a rope ladder—”
“Well, it looks to me as if we’d have to fly up if we ever want to get to the top of this ridge! I don’t know whether you’re trying to tantalize me—but you’re succeeding, all right. For goodness’ sake, Bill, if you know the answer, tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Dorothy,” he called repentantly. He ran up the incline toward her. “I didn’t mean to leave you in the soup—I ought to have realized—Look, I’m awfully sorry,” he repeated in sincere contrition.
“Oh, that’s all right, Bill.” She was embarrassed now. “I had no business to get so shirty.” Under the light of the torch, their eyes met in a smile of friendly understanding.
“But please tell me what it is you’re trying to find?”
“Why, the tree—I honestly thought I’d told you about it before.”
“What tree?” she asked patiently.