“What on earth’s the matter, Bab?” asked Mollie.
“Oh, nothing,” said Bab loyally, “except that Mr. Coon has led us into a nice mud bath. I expect Mr. Latham and I had better return home. I don’t believe I am a first-class hunter. My sympathies are too much on the side of the coon.”
“Can I help either of you?” asked Ralph Ewing courteously. But when Bab said “no,” he and Mollie were off through the woods again.
“It was good of you, Miss Thurston,” Reginald Latham apologized, as he and Bab made their way up the hill again, “to take part of the responsibility for our plunge into the pond on yourself. I am an awful coward about the water. I would take my share of the blame, except that my uncle would be so angry.”
“But you are not afraid of your uncle, are you?” Bab inquired impetuously. “You seem grown up to me, and I don’t see why you should be afraid. Mr. Latham is awfully nice anyhow.”
“Oh, you don’t understand, Miss Thurston,” declared Reginald Latham peevishly. “Everything in the world depends on my keeping on the good side of my uncle. My mother has talked of nothing else to me since I was a child. You see, uncle has all the money in the family now. He doesn’t have to leave me a red cent unless he chooses.”
“Well, I would rather be independent than rich,” protested Bab. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said blushing. “I am sure I don’t know you well enough to say a thing like that to you. But do let’s hurry back to camp.”
On their way back they met Gwendolin Morton and the young German secretary, Franz Heller. Gwendolin had sprained her ankle in getting over a log, and had given up her part in the hunt.
By midnight nearly all the coon hunters had returned to the log cabin for repairs before making their way down the hill again. Reginald Latham sat before the fire drying his wet clothes.
“What is the matter with you, Reginald?” asked his uncle, sharply. “We’ve bagged three coons, Miss Stuart, but I am afraid we have had more disasters than good luck. Now, we must be off home again. Look here, young ladies,” said Mr. Latham, turning to Ruth and Mollie, who were saying good-bye to their guests, “is there a wood nymph, who lives anywhere about in these woods? Several times to-night I thought I spied a little figure flying between the trees.”