“I’m sorry, dear,” she replied, gently. “But I’m not going to risk it. I don’t know where we are, and these mountains are too unfamiliar for me to try it on a night like this, particularly when I’m so tired, and I haven’t even tested the ‘Ladybug.’”
Helen nodded; she saw the wisdom of Linda’s decision. They were probably too late now, anyway. This was Thursday night; they must have lost all chance of catching her uncle before he sailed.
The mountain stream was shallow and cold, but it felt good to Linda after her hard afternoon’s work. She waded about until she found a place deep enough to lie down, and here she relaxed with content.
But it was too cold to stay in the water long, and fifteen minutes later, with renewed energy she began to build a new fire, down by the stream, away from the autogiro. By this time her young companion was exhausted; when she made a feeble effort to help Linda with the fire, the latter commanded her to spread out her slicker and go to sleep.
An hour or so later, when Linda’s fire was burning brightly, the clouds dispersed and the stars shone out in the sky. With a contented sigh Linda sat there for a long time, until the fire had burned out, and the mountains looked black and forbidding. She could not help wondering about them; they were so deep and silent in the night. What strange creatures might live there? Were there any dangerous animals prowling about, to molest these two lonely girls? The thought made Linda shiver for a moment, and she rose abruptly to her feet, determined to get her revolver out of the autogiro.
Her sudden movement brought a quick response from the woods. A black, shadowy creature appeared from behind a tree only a dozen feet beyond her, and she involuntarily cried out in terror. Oh, why hadn’t she thought of that revolver sooner? She hadn’t even a stick to protect her if this was a bear or a wolf, sneaking up in a nightly attack in search of food.
Her cry wakened Helen, who shot up from the ground as if she had been hit.
“What is it, Linda?” she demanded, her voice hoarse with terror. “A bear, or a ghost?”
“Neither—” returned the other, vexed with herself for her fear: “It’s—it’s—a deer! And look—Helen—he’s running for his life! He’s much more afraid of us than we are of him!”
Helen sighed in relief, but she still clung to Linda’s arm.