Then her thoughts took another turn. Who had screamed? Why had Florence lighted the white flare? Because of the scream? She would hardly do that, and besides she did not know of the flares.
“Oh why did we come here?” Greta said the words aloud.
Then turning instinctively, she looked to see if Percy O’Hara might have heard.
Percy O’Hara was not to be seen. That which met her gaze set her knees trembling afresh. Once again she was looking into what appeared to be a hundred pairs of green and gleaming eyes.
“Here we are!” She started violently.
Percy O’Hara was at her side. “We’ll go this way. Follow the ridge. I’ll lead the way.” Without another word he marched straight ahead, leaving her to follow on.
He walked unerringly as some wild creature of the forest, straight to the small tent beside the big flat rock.
They found Florence quite unharmed, but in a state of great agitation. “Oh, Greta!” she exclaimed. Then, catching sight of Percy O’Hara, broke short off to stare.
“Wha—what happened?” Greta panted. “This is Mr. O’Hara. Tell me what happened!”
“Nothing happened—that is, nothing much. Did you hear that scream?”