Agatha's eyes shone and her color came and went, but with an effort she preserved her calm.
"After all, the bush may have grown."
"I think not," said Thirlwell. "It's probably rocky ground where the trees are small."
"But how was it my father did not see the gap?"
"That is easily accounted for. The gap's not large, and I expect you can only see it when you're directly opposite, at a right angle to the line of the high ground. If you moved back a mile or two, the rocks and trees would shut it in. Drummond didn't see it as we came up the lake."
"I suppose we must wait until to-morrow?"
"Yes," said Thirlwell. "We must leave the water, and can't get through the bush in the dark."
Agatha made a sign of agreement. "Very well; I am glad the nights are very short. But I would like to start at daybreak."
Then they turned and went back silently to camp. Thirlwell was conscious of a keen disturbance that he would not analyze and saw that Agatha did not want to talk. As a matter of fact, Agatha could not talk. She felt a curious exaltation: her heart was full.