“WE MUST find out what has happened!” said Joy, looking at Bracknell.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “but you must not go alone. If you will wait a moment I will accompany you.”
“But your cough——” Joy began, a tone of solicitude in her voice.
“My cough!” Dick Bracknell laughed bitterly. “That is nothing to what may lie before us, and in any case it is not safe for you to go alone.”
Something in his voice and manner convinced her that he was not speaking idly, and that he had his own reasons for apprehension.
“Very well,” she said, “we will wait for you. We will go down the creek together.”
He turned back into the hut, and the two girls looked at each other. They were used to the stillness of the forest, but somehow the silence that prevailed seemed ominous of fateful things. Both of them were conscious of vague forebodings, and as Babette looked at her foster-sister, and saw the light of apprehension in her eyes, she whispered, “What do you think, Joy? What do you think has happened?”
“I do not know, but I feel that it is something dreadful and I am afraid.” She looked towards the cabin, and added, “He is afraid also. You can see that!”
“Yes! That is very clear.”
They stood waiting until Dick Bracknell appeared, and then without speaking all three started down the creek. A few minutes walking brought them in sight of the main trail, and suddenly Joy gave a cry, and pointed ahead. The figure of a man was lying prone in the snow, and as he caught sight of it, Dick Bracknell broke into a feeble run. For a moment the two girls stood quite still, looking each at the blanched face of the other, then they followed, slowly, the premonition of tragedy mounting in their hearts.