Then Freddie found his voice enough to speak. He said:
"Did you hear that echo, Flossie?"
"That wasn't an echo," declared his little sister quickly. "Echoes only say the same things you say and this—this was different."
"Yes, it was," Freddie agreed. "But maybe it's a different kind of echo."
"Try it again," suggested Flossie, when they had remained quietly in the darkness for a time. And during that time they had not heard the strange voice calling. It seemed to have been hushed after the "echo," if that is what it was, made answer. "Call again," Flossie begged her brother. Once more he called:
"Hello! Hello! Hello!"
"Well, what do you want?" back came a voice in question. This time there was no doubt about its not being an echo. It had not repeated a single word that Freddie had cried.
"Oh, how funny!" cried Flossie. "What makes it do that?"
Before Freddie could answer, even if he had known what to say, the two children saw a light coming toward them. It was the light of a lantern, bobbing about in the darkness, and because it was a light, which chased away some of the gloom, they were glad, even though they had been a bit frightened by the queer voice and the echo which did not repeat words as the other echo had done.
"Oh, maybe it's daddy and Bert come to look for us!" cried Flossie eagerly.