“Yes, I see. We must think our problems through for ourselves, I guess.”
“Guess that’s right. But come on! We’re off in search of a scream.” Seizing a stout walking stick, Florence prepared to lead the way into the great unknown.
“You said there are greenstones to be found right up here in the rocks.” Greta studied a massive boulder of greenish hue.
“Yes.” Florence produced a chisel and a small hammer. “Swen gave me these. They chisel the stones right out of the rocks. I saw one a lady down at Tobin’s Harbor had set in a cameo ring, a beauty. Worth quite a lot, I guess. Well, I hope to find a number as good as that. What grand Christmas presents they’d make!”
“Florence!” Greta came to a sudden halt. “Swen said someone took an emery wheel for grinding greenstones from his store. Do you suppose someone is up here hunting greenstones? And do you think he could have fallen off into a chasm or something last night? Was it his scream I heard?”
“So Swen told you all about that?” Florence exclaimed. “And yet you wanted to come!”
“I—wanted to come?” Greta stared at her. “Surely! Why not? More than ever!”
“Brave little girl!” Florence put a hand on her shoulder. “But that idea of yours about the scream seems a bit fantastic. You never can tell, though. But if he did fall in a crevice, we’d never find him, not up here.
“Look at that ledge!” She pointed away to the right. “Hundred feet high, half a mile long.
“And look down there.” Her gaze swept the tangled forests that lay below the narrow plateau on which they stood. “Just look! Trees have been fighting for their lives there a thousand years. Twisted, tangled, fallen, grown over with bushes and vines. How is one to conduct a search in such a place? Might as well forget it.”