“She’s not here,” said Hank, “but she can’t be anywhere else—I’m done—there’s nothing for it but to hike back and get all the Chinks and comb this place. It’s not the Mexicans. She’s maybe wandered out here alone and fallen off a rock or into a hole or got sunstroke. Come on and fetch the Chinks.”
“Where’s B. C.?”
“I dunno. Chasing away there somewhere—come on.”
He caught up the bundle and they started, the most dejected pair of human beings in Mexico at that moment. They couldn’t speak. They came through the defile in the cliffs and there on the sands lay the new beached boat, and on the sands the tents, and half in and out of her tent, sitting with her head in the shade and her feet in the sun, Tommie reading a book.
Hank dropped the bundle and ran towards her, shouting as he ran and waving his arms.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE RETURN OF CANDON
BUD saw her spring up, evidently fancying some danger was upon them, then he saw Hank seizing her and jumping her round in a sort of dance.
When he reached them, Hank had flung himself down on the sand and was laughing.