They turned their backs on the fire and began a difficult scramble over or between the piled-up boulders. It was hard going, for, once away from the radiance, the darkness seemed blacker than ever and they had to feel their way with hands and feet. Presently, though, they gained another stretch of coarse sand and this proved of some extent. They kept just above the water’s edge, or tried to, for they had only the sense of hearing to depend on, and the surf was too gentle to make much sound. Once Toby found to his surprise that he was ankle deep in the water and, when he turned to get back to the beach, plunged down to his knees in a hole. His involuntary cry of dismay brought Arnold hurrying blindly to his assistance, with the result that both got nicely soaked again before they found their way back to the land.
They went slowly and cautiously after that, Toby leading with hands outstretched in front of him, Arnold following with a hand on his shoulder and Phebe bringing up the rear holding to Arnold’s coat-tail! They climbed a smooth ledge, crossed some uncomfortably quaky sand, scrambled up and down another ledge, and then, having unconsciously borne inland, discovered themselves in a thicket of waist-high bushes. Toby stopped disgustedly.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Let’s keep on,” said Arnold. “If we can get through the bushes we may find a road. Anyhow, we won’t walk into the bay again!”
“All right—here we go then!”
So they rustled and tripped and crashed their way through the vegetation, their hands suffering in the conflict, and finally won through and found their steps leading them up a steep ascent carpeted with coarse grass and blackberry brambles. The brambles caught at their feet and scratched their ankles, but they kept on until Phebe declared breathlessly that she just had to stop and rest a minute. So they all sat down on the ground—and, incidentally, the blackberry vines—and got their breath back.
“I’d give a hundred dollars if I had it,” said Toby, “to know where the dickens we are. This is a pretty steep hill, and the only one I can think of is the Head, and we know it can’t be the Head because the shore isn’t right.”
“Things look different at night,” said Phebe wisely. “Maybe it is the Head, after all, Toby.”
“I don’t believe it. If it is, though, we’ll soon find out, because there’s a road runs along this side. But it can’t be, sis. Where are there any rocks, like those back there, on the outer shore of the Head? It’s all clean beach except at the point.”