"Can you follow us to the camp fire yonder?" asked Diane compassionately.
Philip, though evidently very dizzy, thought likely he could, and he did. That his shoulder was wet and very painful, he was well aware, though somehow he had forgotten why. Moreover, his head throbbed queerly.
There came a tent and a bed and a blur of incidents.
Mr. Poynter dazedly resigned himself to a general atmosphere of unreality.
CHAPTER X
ON THE RIDGE ROAD
At the Westfall farm as the electric vanguard of the storm flashed brightly over the valley, the telephone had tinkled. In considerable distress of mind Aunt Agatha answered it.
"I—I'm sure I don't know when he will be home," she said helplessly after a while… "He went barely a minute ago and very foolish too, I said, with the storm coming… At dinner he spoke some of going to the camp—Miss Westfall's camp… I—I really don't know. … I wish I did but I don't."
The lightning blazed at the window and left it black. Beyond in the lane, a car with glaring headlights was rolling rapidly toward the gateway. Aunt Agatha hung up with an aggrieved sniff.