Oh, you can't be always riding to rescues, and falling over cliffs, and escaping from burning houses.
At that moment, by the purest accident, the tip of Mr. Langham's right forefinger just brushed against Mary's sleeve. And there went through him from head to foot a great thrill, as if trumpets had suddenly sounded.
"I suppose," said Mary, after a little while, "that we ought to be going."
"But I'd rather sit here than eat," said Mr. Langham.
"Honestly? So would I."
"Then," said Mr. Langham, "without exposing ourselves to any other danger than that of starvation, I propose that we lose ourselves—as other people do—in short, that we remain here until one or other of us would rather—eat."
"Good gracious," said Mary, "we might be here a week!"
Mr. Langham rose slowly to his feet. Far off he could see pale smoke flitting upward through the tree-tops. He turned and looked into Miss Darling's smiling, upturned face.
"I'll just run down and tell Arthur we're not really lost," he said. "But I'll make him promise not to look for us. I'll be right back—almost before you can say 'Jack Robinson.'"