“Maybe,” answered Jo. “But we can’t wait on the chance of that; we’ve got to do something right now.”
In the shelter of Ann’s arms Helen had stopped sobbing. “They mustn’t hurt my brother Ben even though he does tease me all the time.”
“What can we do?” Ann spoke with a small quaver in her voice although she had grown calm in this real danger.
“Don’t you worry too much,” Jo assured her stanchly. “Things always seem worse than they are and we’ll get Ben, don’t you fear!”
“If only the house wasn’t so far away,” said Ann despairingly. All possible help seemed so remote.
“It ain’t more’n a mile,” said Jo. “Now, Helen, you go just as fast as you can to get pop and Mr. Seymour. Tell pop to bring his gun. And tell them that Ann and I are going straight to the ship.”
“Oh, Helen,” cried Ann, “run across the meadow and don’t mind wetting your feet!”
“Yes, I’ll go a short cut, right through the brook!” And Helen was off, following the more direct path by the river, the path by which Jo had taken them home the first day they saw the deer.