“Come, Modestine,” said Tish again, and started along. It was raining briskly by that time, and thundering as if a storm was coming. Aggie broke down suddenly.
“Tish! Tish!” she wailed. “Oh, Lizzie, she’ll never get back alive. Never! We’ve killed her.”
“She’s about killed us!” I snarled.
“She’s coming back!”
Sure enough, Tish had turned and was stalking back in our direction.
“I ought to leave you where you are,” she said disagreeably, “but it’s going to storm. If you decide to be sensible, somewhere up the valley is the cave Charlie Sands hid in when he ran away. I think I can find it.”
It was thundering louder now, and Aggie was giving a squeal with every peal. We were too far gone for pride. I helped her out of her sleeping-bag and we started after Tish and the donkey. The rain poured down on us. At every step torrents from Thunder Cloud and the Camel’s Back soaked us. The wind howled up the ravine and the lightning played round the treetops.
We traveled for three hours in that downpour.
III
Only once did Tish speak, and then we could hardly hear her above the rush of water and the roar of the wind.