“Precisely,” said David. “No one, man, woman, or child, turns to the obvious when there is the unknown to explore, possible adventure ahead.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“I bow to your judgment,” said she.
They turned up stream.
It was rough enough walking here. The river lay in a sort of gorge, the wood on one side, the moorland on the other. A mere track ran along its right bank, a narrow grass path. There was no sign of footprints. The grass was short and springy, taking no definite impress on its surface.
David was obviously the leader of the expedition. He had taken complete control of it, not masterfully, you understand, but merely because it belonged to him by right to do so. He was in his natural element.
Elizabeth was conscious of totally new characteristics in him. All trace of the child in false surroundings had vanished. The man element had appeared in him, and had appeared strongly. There was a new strength in him, a new decision. There was a curious air of confidence about him, also a certain indefinable joyousness. It seemed an almost incredible change, considering the brief space of time in which it had been accomplished, nevertheless it was actual, real.
For the most part they pursued their way in silence. The sky, as you may well guess, was gradually growing darker. Clouds had already blotted out the sun.
Suddenly David gave a little exclamation. He bent to the ground, and picked up something from beneath a blackberry bush. He turned it over, then held it triumphantly towards Elizabeth. After all, it was only a piece of brown paper.
“But,” demurred Elizabeth, “is it the piece?”