Grace ran on until suddenly halted by a shout from Hippy Wingate.
“Whither away, my pretty maid?” cried Hippy.
“Oh! You gave me a start,” answered Grace breathlessly. “I’ve had such a fright, Hippy. I have seen the most awful face that I ever looked upon.”
“In the words of the guide, ‘don’t wolly till to-mollow.’ What did it look like? Tell me about it.”
Grace told him what had occurred and described as best she could the face that she had seen mirrored in the pool.
“That sounds like the woman Woo saw watching the camp,” he nodded. “I think we ought to go back to camp and tell the folks what you have discovered.”
“You mean it sounds like Woo’s description of her,” answered Grace laughingly.
“You know what I mean. Come on!”
The Overlanders listened breathlessly to Grace Harlowe’s story of her experience, but no one had an explanation to offer. They asked her if she had gone up to the rock to see if anyone were hiding there, but Grace said she had not done so because she was too frightened.
“I’ve never lost my head before, but I surely did this time,” she added, smiling in an embarrassed sort of way. “I found a pool full of mountain trout—no, not golden trout—and I would suggest that one of you men go out and see if you can’t catch a mess. Trout would be relished by all, including even myself, scared as I am.”