“But you’re lame!” Percy protested.
“Only a little. Some raven came along with bandages and liniment.” She smiled knowingly. “It’s just about got me fixed up.”
They were away. It was strange, this trooping away down the ridge, single file, in the night.
“W—weird!” Greta whispered to her companion. “What do you think it is?”
“Pr—probably nothing.” Florence was all aquiver.
Working their way silently down the hillside, they at last arrived on the lower plateau. Here they came upon a well worn moose trail that, they thought, must lead to the lake.
They were not mistaken. Before they reached the shore they caught the sound of splashing.
“Moose.” Greta’s lips formed the word she did not speak.
Looking across the lake, they caught a dull glow of light.
“That—that’s the place.” She could not prevent her teeth from chattering.