“And yet in a way I did not find you after all! I was merely tramping through the woods calling your name when by accident I saw a figure moving toward me, the man whose little cabin you had stumbled into. Fate was kinder to you than you dream, Sally. Mr. Holden was on his way to your friends.”
Sally slipped further down into the large semi-invalid chair, ordinarily occupied by Mrs. Burton.
“Yes, and I implored him not to leave me alone, Dan. I know it was selfish of me and yet I wanted to wait till morning before sending any word. I don’t remember that I was so frightened when I was wandering around alone. I have not as much imagination as the other girls, besides at first I knew I must not allow myself to be terrified and afterwards, well, afterwards I suppose I really was too cold, Dan, to think or care for anything in the world save getting warm again. Yet I did think of mother and father and you. I don’t believe I thought of Alice.”
Sally’s face wore an odd, childish expression.
“Alice is so critical of me and of course getting lost and nearly freezing was partly my own fault and partly yours, Dan. But what I intended to tell you was that as soon as I recovered a little and had something warm to drink, hot coffee, or tea, and had rested, Mr. Holden—was that his name?—insisted that he must leave me and tramp to Tahawus cabin. It was miles away and I knew no one could get back before midnight. So suddenly it seemed to me I could not stay alone. Before it had been so silent and now I could hear strange sounds, the barking of little foxes, the calls of animals. I feared no one would return and I would be forever lost in the tiny hut.”
Sally shivered.
“Nevertheless Mr. Holden would go. He told me I would be entirely safe and could doubtless sleep until his return. Strange that I should have seen him before! It was one afternoon when Chitty and I were in the woods not far away and he sat listening to Chitty’s singing. I was puzzled by him then and am still puzzled. Did you ask him, Dan, why he lived like a hermit? I will some day, and I think he may tell me. Anyhow I am very grateful to him. And I was just falling asleep, Dan, when you came and found me. Then together you dragged me back on a sled. Do you know I have scarcely been wide awake since mother and father lifted me and brought me into the cabin. And yet I am still tired.”
Back among a pile of cushions Sally dropped her head as if she were not altogether displeased by her present condition.
Nevertheless, her companion watched her anxiously.
Dan Webster was a tall, splendid looking fellow, six feet in height, with blue eyes, coal-black hair and extraordinary physical vigor. He had been two years with the American army in France, but at present was only twenty-two.