“No,” he replied. “It belonged to the secret service. It was an old boat, but I was fond of it. And I’ve lost a lot of my things.... I think,” he added, gloomily, “that I’d better hunt about for some water, to put the fire entirely out. I don’t want to start a prairie fire, or whatever you call it.”
“Do you suppose there is a stream anywhere about?” asked Linda.
“I hope so. If we’ve got to stay here for the night.”
“Then come back to the Ladybug and get a can to fill, in case you do find water. Bring some back to us, if possible, and then we’ll give you some supper. Real Mexican food—if you like it.” It was Dot who made this offer, and she winked slyly at Linda as she concluded.
The young man wandered off, and the girls turned to their preparations for supper. The food had already been cooked, so they decided to eat it cold.
It was some time before Chase returned with the can of water and the announcement that he had found a stream, and had succeeded in putting out the fire. He sat down gloomily beside the girls, but he made no motion to eat.
“Don’t look so sad, Mr. Chase,” said Dot. “They’ll give you another plane.”
“It isn’t that,” he replied, morosely. “It’s my foolhardiness. When I think of what I did to you, I’d like to shoot myself.”
He looked so pathetic, so utterly downcast, that Linda didn’t know what to say. But Dot, in her characteristic manner, tried teasing him. Very solemnly she handed him Linda’s pistol.
“If you really want to shoot yourself, go off away from us, where you won’t clutter up the landscape!”