At that she disappeared down the narrow passageway that led to the dim unknown.
Had she known just what was happening to Ruth at that moment she would have been surprised and startled. Ruth was experiencing adventure all her own.
On that day, still wondering and brooding over her curious experience with the swordfish and trying without much success to get the consent of her mind to enjoy the swordfish money gotten in such a strange manner, Ruth had gone for a walk to the back of the island.
Once there, fish and money were driven from her mind, for the view from the crest of Black Head, a bold headland towering two hundred feet above the sea, was glorious beyond compare. The day was clear. There was no storm, yet great breakers, racing in from the sea, sent out long, low rushes of sound as they broke against the impregnable black barrier.
As her keenly appreciative eyes took in the long line of fast racing gray-green surf, they suddenly fell upon a sight that made her blood run cold.
“What a terrible chance! How—how foolish!” she exclaimed as, springing from her rocky seat, she went racing back over the island.
Having arrived at the head of a rugged trail that led downward, she came to a sudden pause.
This, in view of the fact that she honestly believed that the boy and girl on the rocks by the rushing surf were in grave danger, might seem strange. Strange or not, she walked deliberately now. Dropping here, clinging there to drop again, she had made her way half the distance to them when she paused again to at last take a seat there in the sun.
The path from there on was steep but straight. She could reach the ones below in less than a moment’s time. But she would not, at least not yet.
“What’s the use?” she told herself a little bitterly. “Wouldn’t be so bad if one didn’t really like them. But I do.”