"Can you tell me that it is nothing?" she said pitifully, her eyes big and black in her white face. "To have been gone all night with that young man—to have been found by you—another young man? Even if the Americans make light of it—is it not what you call an escapade?"
"I have to admit that it's an escapade—an accidental escapade," Barry qualified carefully. "But I don't know any way out of it—unless we all stand together," he said slowly, "and all pretend that you got lost alone and found alone. That's very simple, really, and I think perhaps it would make things easier for you."
"Now you're saying something!" Johnny was jubilant. "Absolute intelligence—gleam of positive genius. . . . She was lost alone. Right after the thunder shower. Missed the others and I went to a high place to look for them and we never found each other. . . . Spent the night searching for her," Johnny threw in carelessly, marking out a neat little role for himself. "That's the story—eh, what?"
"Oh could we—could we do that?" Maria Angelina implored with quivering lips.
"Of course we can do that. Only you've got to stick to that story like grim death—no making any little break about climbing the mountain top and things like that, you know."
"You may trust me," said Maria fervently.
"Leave it to your Uncle Dudley," Johnny reassured him. "But, look here, Barry, do you want me to die on your doorstep?" he demanded, his hunger returning as his agitation subsided.
"Oh, sit down, Johnny, and I'll bring you something," said Barry at last. "You had better keep your eye on the trail to see if any one else is coming along. Two in a morning is quite stirring," he said deliberately. "I'm sure the fire is still burning—unless you'd prefer to have him perish of starvation?" he paused to inquire politely of the girl, his twinkling eyes bringing a sudden irrepressible answer to her lips.
"Yes, that will be best for everybody's feelings," he rattled on, from the interior of the cabin, referring not to Johnny's demise but to the construction of a defensive narrative. "Each of you wandered about all night alone. . . . Here's some ham, Johnny, and cold toast. There'll be hot coffee in an instant. . . . Now remember you crossed the river just after the thunder storm and separated to try different trails. And you never found each other . . . That's simple, isn't it? And you, Johnny, climbed the wrong mountain and slept in a shack and came down this morning and returned to the Lodge. You must show up there, worried as blazes and tearing your hair," he instructed the devouring Johnny who merely nodded, tearing wolfishly at the cold toast.
"But before you reach the Lodge I will ease the anxiety there by telephoning that I have just found Maria Angelina," went on Barry, using quite unconsciously the name by which he was thinking of the girl.