"I suppose there is absolutely no way of getting a boat?" Cora questioned.
"Even my canoe is gone. That awful man is to blame," replied the girl.
"Did he take it?" asked Cora.
"When I refused to go with him, he said I might die here," replied Laurel. "That was to get more money from father. Oh, you cannot know how I have wished to speak with some one!" and her big, brown eyes filled with tears.
"And I am so glad I did come," Cora assured her, "even if our first night must be a lonely one. I am used to queer experiences."
"Then I will have no fear in showing you how I have lived here. Of course, it was for father."
They retraced their steps, and in spite of all the assurances that each pledged to the other it was surely lonely.
"Shall we go to your little pine cave?" Cora asked.
"I think it would be better not to," replied Laurel, "for indeed, one never knows what that man might do. He might come back just to frighten me."
"And he saw how ill you were?"