“Hasn’t B. C. come back?” asked Hank, sitting down.
“No,” replied George.
The thought that he was still hunting for Tommie and that they had returned and were seated comfortably beginning their supper, came not only to the pair of them, but evidently, by her manner, to Miss Coulthurst. They tried to explain that they had come back not to give up the hunt, but to get the Chinks to help to comb the place, but the explanation seemed to fall rather flat.
“I hope to goodness nothing has happened to him,” said George, weakly.
“Maybe you’d better go and see,” suggested Tommie.
Hank jumped to his feet.
“Come on,” he cried. George was scrambling up also when a hail came from towards the cliffs and they saw the figure of B. C. in the first of the starlight, coming towards them across the sands.
He spotted the figure of Tommie long before he reached them, and concluded that the others had found her and brought her back.
Walking like a man dead beat, he came up to them and cast himself down to rest on the sand.
“Thank God,” said he.