Jessie shouted again, her voice wailing over the sands almost as mournfully as the cries of the sea-fowl. Again and again she shouted, but without hearing a human sound in reply. She labored on, and it grew so dark that she began to wish one of the others had come with her. Even Amy's presence would have been a comfort.
She came to the brink of a yawning sand-pit, the bottom of which was so dark she could not see it. She began skirting this hollow, crying out as she went, and almost in tears.
Suddenly Darry's voice answered her. She was fond of Darry—thought him a most wonderful fellow, in fact. But there was just one thing Jessie wanted of him now.
"Have you seen her?" she cried.
"Not a bit. I have been away down to the lighthouse. Nobody has seen her there."
"Oh! Who you lookin' for?" suddenly asked a voice out of the darkness.
"Henrietta!" shrieked Jessie, and plunged down into the dark sand-pit.
"Who's lost?" asked the little girl again. "Ow-ow! I—I guess I been asleep, Miss Jessie."
"Has that kid shown up at last?" grumbled Darry, climbing to the sand ridge.
"Is it night?" demanded Henrietta, as Jessie clasped her with an energy that betrayed her relief. "Why, it wasn't dark when I came down here."