“You’re right, but how did it come here?” puzzled Jeanette.
“I can’t tell any more than you, but it is what kept the purse from sinking. See how wet it is? Nan must have sent the toy ashore, hoping it would attract attention.”
“But what can we do?”
Jeanette was twisting her hands and trying to keep from tears. She must not become hysterical.
Jim was doing some rapid thinking.
“I imagine she’s out on one of those rocks that are high and dry at low tide, but cut off from the mainland when the tide comes in. I can get a boat back there a ways,” waving his hand in the direction from which they had come, “and go out after her. Would you be afraid to stay in the bus if I lock it? I’d take you,” as Jeanette hesitated, “but I can go quicker alone; and, besides, it won’t help matters any for you to get soaked.”
“I’ll stay,” said Jeanette, bravely going back toward the car, and getting in.
“Good for you! You’ll be perfectly safe, and I’ll be just as quick as I can.”
Jim disappeared into the fog, and Jeanette curled up on one of the seats for a good cry. She was soon over it, however, and straining her eyes, trying to see through the thick gray blanket which had wrapped itself around the coast. Once she heard the sound of oars, but she could not distinguish any objects.
The minutes seemed to fairly crawl, and each one was like an hour! No one passed along the road, not even a stray dog. Suppose Jim could not find Nan? Suppose he too got lost? Suppose she had to just stay on and on here?