"Go back the way we came?" inquired Henry Burns, slyly.
"Not much," said Harvey. "Straight out to the main road. No more swamps for me."
They went out that way, then; took the main road, passed down by the old inn and the mill, and swung into a rapid stride for home. It was half past eleven o'clock when they turned into their beds.
Two days following this adventure, toward the latter part of the afternoon, Henry Burns was walking up the same road by the stream, in the direction of the camp, where he was to meet Tom Harris for a spin in the canoe. He had heard no footsteps near, and was therefore not a little surprised when a hand touched his arm and a laugh that was familiar sounded close by his side.
He turned quickly, and there was Bess Thornton.
"Hullo," she said, "I hoped I'd see somebody on the road. I'll walk along with you."
Henry Burns said "all right" in a tone that was not over-cordial; for, though not easily abashed, he was, to tell the truth, just a bit shy with girls, and wondered what Tom Harris would say if he saw him coming up the road with Bess.
Perhaps the girl's quick intuitiveness perceived this, for a mischievous light danced in her black eyes as she said, "I thought perhaps you'd like to have company. You would, wouldn't you?"
"Yes—oh, yes," responded Henry Burns. "Going home from school?"
"Yes," she answered. "But I didn't want to go this morning, a bit. Gran' made me, though."