And back through the blackness she came again to earth and consciousness and opened her eyes, straight into the eyes that searched her face; answering the call of that strangely familiar voice. “Oh—was it you?”
There was troubled relief in the voice as she said it, relief as if she would rather have had back the terror than to have found this one involved in the mystery. There was question, pain, almost reproach, in her tone; there was judgment held in suspense as if her soul rejected the witness of her eyes. Then, as if she could not bear the conclusion of her own judgment she cried out earnestly,
“Oh, what were you doing there?”
He dropped her hands as if they had been shot away from him and his head drooped, stooped perhaps would be better, as if a great burden had suddenly been let upon his shoulders. He tried to speak and his voice was husky, the words did not come from his lips. He half turned away with a motion as if he would hide his face.
Then a low stealthy whistle rasped between them and he started back toward her:
“Go!—” he said quickly, “Go! You must not be seen here! Joyce—Little Joyce—” the last syllables were scarcely audible. She heard them in her soul afterward, like a long echo of a very fine whisper. A clear whistle close beside her, resonant, remembered from childhood, sounded just above her bowed head as she turned, and she knew he was signalling to the rest.
“Go! Straight down the road! Keep in the shadow. I’ll come back after awhile and find you,” he whispered, “Don’t be afraid—” and in the same breath, louder:
“All right, Kid, nothing but a scared rabbit. We’ll go up the other way—”
He was striding away from her rapidly into the darkness and she stood almost petrified in the road where he left her, till she heard a rough laugh of one of his companions and fear lent strength to her feet once more and sped her down the road again.
Her heart was beating wildly, and her thoughts in a chaos. She could not think, nor analyze her own feelings. She could only fly along in the shadow, stumbling now and again over a rough bit of road, straining her ears to listen for sounds behind her, casting a fearful glance back.