“More fun in a wag’n,” declared René.
“You’d holler all right, when the snow blew in on you,” said Priscilla.
Jack hardly heard what they were saying, so puzzled and disturbed was he over the reappearance of his enemy. Was the man following them, or was the meeting purely accidental? Had he been tampering with the horses the night Priscilla roused them? If the fellow were bent on revenge, they were likely to suffer from the effects of his anger and jealousy almost any time.
The next morning they were following the very irregular South Shore line along the Atlantic; past ragged points, around deep bays, through tangles of woodland, then back beside the yellow sands again. Numerous offshore islands looked so inviting that Priscilla was always wishing they could drive out to them. As they rounded St. Margaret’s Bay, the sunshine was brilliant; but almost without warning, a mile farther on, they were completely enveloped in fog which cut off all view of the ocean.
“Do be very careful, Jack,” pleaded Desiré nervously, as they almost felt their way around an especially blind curve. “Someone might run into us.”
They reached Chester in safety, and spent some time looking about that busy little town. The souvenir shop up the hill above the Lovett House especially attracted Priscilla, and it was with great reluctance that she left it.
“I’d like to have money enough to buy everything I wanted there,” she said, looking longingly back at it.
In a few minutes they missed René, who had been lagging along behind them.
“That boy is hopeless,” groaned Jack, as they retraced their steps to look for him.
Not very far back they discovered him, leaning over the edge of a cobblestone well, trying to lower the heavy bucket.