Well back from the scene of disaster, Jane and Frances clung to each other, speechless with terrified amazement.
It was Jane who first managed to gasp: “What—what was it?”
In spite of the fact that she had narrowly escaped accompanying the tree on its downward career, Frances answered with a slightly hysterical laugh. “You must have caused an earthquake, Plain Jane.”
“I? You mean you! You started the tree, and I guess the tree did the rest. Something besides that tree certainly dropped. Dare we go over and see just what happened? Come on!”
Very gingerly the two went forward. To all appearance, the ledge of rock was still intact. Securing a thick stick, Frances went cautiously forward, striking the stony formation ahead of her with every step she took. Where it jutted off into space she halted, and kneeling, peered over. Emulating her bold example, Jane was soon kneeling beside her.
“All I can see is a great lot of stones and one big rock,” declared Frances. “Maybe the tree jarred the under part of this rock loose. We’d better move back. The rest of it might go. That second terrible crash must have been caused by that big rock when it fell. The rest of the folks must have heard it. Hark!”
A long shrill halloo assailed their ears. Again it sounded; this time nearer.
“They heard. They’re calling. We’d better go.” Jane sprang to her feet and set off through the woods, Frances following after.
Halfway to the spot where the party had stopped to rest, Jane and Frances dashed into the midst of an excited sextette.
“What caused that frightful crash? Were you girls very close to it? Where are Ruth and Blanche?” White-faced and anxious-eyed, Miss Drexal fairly hurled her questions at the laggards.