The appointed hour for the lessons was half past three on Fridays, but it was after four, and Polly seemed to be walking farther and farther away from civilization.
"I shall have to give it up," she thought; "I will go back to the station where I got off and wait until the next train for San Francisco comes along, which will be nobody knows when. How provoking it is, and how stupid I am! Professor Salazar will stay at home for me, and very likely Mrs. Salazar has made butter-cakes and coffee, and here am I floundering in the woods! I 'll sit down under these trees and do a bit of Spanish, while I 'm resting for the walk back."
Just at this moment a chorus of voices sounded in the distance, then some loud talking, then more singing.
"It is some of the students," thought Polly, as she hastily retired behind a tree until they should pass.
[Illustration: "It is some of the students.">[
But unfortunately they did not pass. Just as they came opposite her hiding-place, they threw themselves down in a sunny spot on the opposite side of the road and lighted their cigarettes.
"No hurry!" said one. "Let 's take it easy; the train does n't leave till 4.50. Where are you going, Ned?"
"Home, I suppose, where I was going when you met me. I told you I could only walk to the turn."