“Not a word to anyone.”
“Busy yourself with watching the sky,” was the woman’s advice.
“All right,” she promised, but her mind was endeavoring to solve the mystery of the plateau.
Roberta thought it might be the living quarters of Wat and the men, but if that was all, why had Nomie been so fearful? There was certainly something going on under those rocks which was a secret that was guarded with extreme care and if it had been one of the men who had discovered her trying to fathom it, things might go very hard with her. From what the Indian woman said, the white girl gathered that she was expected to keep a close watch on her prisoner, and an exhibition of too much inquisitiveness would surely cost her what liberty she enjoyed. Presently they reached the dug-out, and after watching the woman gather some bits of driftwood from the beach, they went inside.
“Go to bed,” Nomie said quietly. “Sleep very sound,” she added “You be sick if get no rest.”
“I’m not tired,” Roberta answered, but there was something in the woman’s eyes which seemed to plead with her to obey, so greatly puzzled, she added, “Not very tired, but I believe I’ll feel better if I lie down for a while.”
“Good,” the woman answered. “Just like you are, lie down,” She tugged at the pillows piled on the corner bed, and guessing that she was to be hidden, Roberta stretched herself among them. A moment later anyone coming into the room, unless they knew that she was there, would not have noticed her.
For minutes Roberta lay still as a mouse, every nerve tense to know what was going to happen, but as the time went on and she did not hear anything more than the splashing of the waves against the rocks outside, the drip of heavy fog, which had rolled in thickly, and the Indian woman moving about the dug-out, her mind leaped back to the discovery of the crack on the plateau, and to wondering what the mystery could be. Then, suddenly she heard a whining noise, something like the sounds beneath the rocks, followed by a gruff barking and snorting, which could not belong to a dog. It kept up for an hour, then seemed to die down, and, because effects of the strain she had been through had not entirely worn off, her eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep, but not quite soundly enough to make her absolutely oblivious of her surroundings. Into her lulled brain leaped a train of thoughts, half dream and half reality. The past and the present, the possible and the impossible in a conglomeration of fancies, but suddenly her eyes popped wide open and every faculty was alert.
The first thing she saw was Nomie standing near the bed, but her head was turned toward the door and her body was stiff, as if she anticipated some great danger. Not daring to move, Roberta listened, then she heard the unmistakable scraping of a boat on the rocks as if it were being shoved high to prevent its being taken out by the tide. This was followed by men’s gruff voices, and finally the sound of stamping feet making their way to the Indian’s house. Just then a distant voice hailed the newcomers, and Nomie said something scarcely above a whisper to Natell, who jumped up from the other side of the room, hurried across to her mother and then quickly parting the nearest heavy draperies, the young girl disappeared.
From out on the darkening beach there came the sound of an exchange of calls, then it seemed to Roberta as if the man who had greeted the boatmen must have joined them, for his voice was mingled with the others. All that she could make out of the conversation was its punctuation of oaths, and while this was going on, Nomie stepped stealthily to the door, got back of it and started to close it, but it was made of heavy timbers and did not move easily. Just as she was about to give it the last shove, a great boot was stuck over the sill, and a drunken voice brawled.