“Drive toward the inlet,” directed Edgar. “This gentleman and I will walk.”
Relieved of our weight, the horse stumbled bravely into the trackless sand, while below on the damper and firmer shingle we walked by the edge of the water.
The tide was coming in and the spent waves, spreading before them an advance guard of tiny shells and pebbles, threatened our boots’ and at the same time in soothing, lazy whispers warned us of their attack. These lisping murmurs and the crash and roar of each incoming wave as it broke were the only sounds. And on the beach we were the only human figures. At last the scene began to bear some resemblance to one set for an adventure. The rolling ocean, a coast steamer dragging a great column of black smoke, and cast high upon the beach the wreck of a schooner, her masts tilting drunkenly, gave color to our purpose. It became filled with greater promise of drama, more picturesque. I began to thrill with excitement. I regarded Edgar appealingly, in eager supplication. At last he broke the silence that was torturing me.
“We will now walk higher up,” he commanded. “If we get our feet wet, we may take cold.”
My spirit was too far broken to make reply. But to my relief I saw that in leaving the beach Edgar had some second purpose. With each heavy step he was drawing toward two high banks of sand in a hollow behind which, protected by the banks, were three stunted, wind-driven pines. His words came back to me.
“So many what-you-may-call-’ems.” Were these pines the three somethings from something, the what-you-may-call-’ems? The thought chilled me to the spine. I gazed at them fascinated. I felt like falling on my knees in the sand and tearing their secret from them with my bare hands. I was strong enough to dig them up by the roots, strong enough to dig the Panama Canal! I glanced tremulously at Edgar. His eyes were wide open and, eloquent with dismay, his lower jaw had fallen. He turned and looked at me for the first time with consideration. Apology and remorse were written in every line of his countenance.
I’m sorry, he stammered. I had a cruel premonition. I exclaimed with distress.
“You have lost the map!” I hissed.
“No, no,” protested Edgar; “but I entirely forgot to bring any lunch!”
With violent mutterings I tore off my upper and outer garments and tossed them into the hack.