"I want a fire," said Hinpoha. "We always have a fire when we sleep out."
"Well, build one in a puddle, if you can," said Gladys. "Your hair will be the only blaze we have to-night."
Chapa and Medmangi stood up together on the running-board and began to sing dolefully,
"Forsaken, forsaken, forsaken, am I,
Like the bones at a banquet, all men pass me by."
"I wish a few would pass by," said Gladys, "By the way, have you noticed that not a single car or wagon has passed through here since we've been stranded? I thought this was the main road."
"If this is the main road," said Hinpoha, "I'd hate to be stranded on a by-path."
Of course, the girls did not know then that the storm had washed out the bridges on either side of them and the roadway had been closed to traffic. They sat peering into the darkness like Columbus looking for land and wondering why no one came along to whom they could appeal for a tow into the village. The moon shone, a slender sickle in the west that Gladys said reminded her of the thin slices of melon they used to serve for breakfast at Miss Russell's school.
"I think it looks more like a toe nail," said Hinpoha, squinting sidewise at it.
"Don't look at it squarely, it'll bring you bad luck," said Chapa.
"I'm not looking at it," said Hinpoha, "it's looking at me."