“Do you know the way?” asked Rob.
“’Course I do; I’ve been once, and I always remember. Didn’t I go and get my box all right?”
That convinced Rob, and he followed blindly as Nan led him over stock and stone, and brought him, after much meandering, to a small recess in the rock, where the blackened stones showed that fires had been made.
“Now, isn’t it nice?” asked Nan, as she took out a bit of bread-and-butter, rather damaged by being mixed up with nails, fish-hooks, stones and other foreign substances, in the young lady’s pocket.
“Yes; do you think they will find us soon?” asked Rob, who found the shadowy glen rather dull, and began to long for more society.
“No, I don’t; because if I hear them, I shall hide, and have fun making them find me.”
“P’raps they won’t come.”
“Don’t care; I can get home myself.”
“Is it a great way?” asked Rob, looking at his little, stubby boots, scratched and wet with his long wandering.
“It’s six miles, I guess.” Nan’s ideas of distance were vague, and her faith in her own powers great.