XXXI
It was now near ten o’clock and we soon would know whether our hiding-place was a safe one. I knew that it was safer than would have been a flight through the woods, where Brack and his men might be prowling, yet I was so apprehensive that the sight of Brack’s big head thrust through the brush, his old sneering smile on his lips, would not have surprised me in the least. But no one came.
The forenoon passed without sight or sound of human being. At noon we were more hungry than we had been at breakfast. The spruce grouse had improved remarkably in flavor. In fact we agreed as we devoured what remained of them that seldom had we tasted better food.
“And nourishing; I’m sure they’re very nourishing,” said Betty. “They improve on acquaintance, as one’s appetite grows less finicky.”
My hopes began to rise as the hours passed with no sign of the appearance of Brack or any of his men. Apparently it was no man of the captain’s who had found the cave and removed the rifle. Then he had no way of knowing where we were hidden; we were safe at least for the present. When I explained this to Betty she said quietly—
“I’ve felt safe all the time, Mr. Pitt.”
“And quite right, too,” I replied. “The situation hasn’t been what any one but a pessimist would call dangerous.”
“Mr. Pitt!”
“What?”
She looked at me gravely for several seconds.