“No. Certainly not. I tell you I do feel safe.”
“Why?”
Again she smiled inscrutably.
“You wouldn’t believe me now if I told you. Some day maybe you will. Then I’ll tell you—if you ask. But you must not ask now.”
For the present I, too, felt safe. But only for the present. Brack would not give up. That implacable will would have its way and the hunt for us probably was on at that moment. Brack, realizing our helplessness in the wilderness, would know that our field of flight would be restricted to the vicinity of the fiord, and with his men would search the hills relentlessly. I blessed the fate that had sent my feet stumbling into our well-hidden cavern.
As I weighed the chances of our discovery—which chance consisted practically of some literally blundering into the cave—I considered our plight in a more favorable aspect. The doctor would deliver my message to Pierce, and Freddy would pass on to the others the secret of our place of concealment. Dr. Olson, Freddy, Wilson and George, by this time probably knew where we were.
There was a world of consolation in this thought. They would communicate with us; Freddy would see to that. Yes, we would hear from our friends before much longer.
But as the hours passed with no sign of such good fortune I began to doubt. What were our friends doing? What were they thinking of? Didn’t they realize that every minute which we passed in this uncertainty was a minute of torture?
Betty’s patience seemed to grow as mine diminished. She had begun to weave a mat out of the branches which we had carried in, and apparently she was more interested in this than in what our friends were doing. The mat was finished as darkness began to creep up the hillside, and Betty spread thereupon the food I had snatched from the cabin table. There was a piece of sausage, three slices of bread, and a can of sardines.
“Perhaps,” I suggested, “we had better save some for the morrow.”