“Whatever they are they aren’t for us.” Billy looked at his watch. “Twelve o’clock! We’ve been thrashing round for nearly two hours, and got nowhere; and you’re all in, Erminie. We must go back to the picnic ground and think out some other scheme.”
Erminie made no objection. She was too weary and frightened to do anything but fall in with his suggestions. Billy himself, as perplexed as she was, and with the added weight of responsibility for her safety, felt the need of a little respite for fresh planning.
In silence they climbed the hill again, each thankful for the broad smooth path that led up from the steamer landing.
“The first thing is a snack, Erminie. It’s a great thing for us that my mother’s eyes are bigger than our appetites,—at least for a first trial.”
He left her in the pavilion and went to look for his basket, but it was gone. Puzzled and more weary than he knew till this fresh disappointment revealed it, he dropped to the ground for an instant in sheer discouragement. What next? They would have to remain all night,—there was no other way. And what would that mean?
For himself it did not matter; he would tell his people just how it happened, and they would believe him; they always did. But Erminie—would other people—strangers—believe? Think as well of her as before? Would her father——Her father! What would he say? Billy knew he was a violent man; what would he do?
She called him, and there was a pitiful note of distress in her voice that warned Billy he must not leave her alone. “I’m coming!” he answered, and sprang up, aroused by her need to fresh action and a semblance of cheer. “You can’t shake me, you see.” He ran up the steps toward her.
“I’m so afraid when you are not near me, Billy.” Her voice trembled.
“I couldn’t find our basket. I guess Mumps or some of them thought I had forgotten it, and took it along.”
A sudden gust shook the trees above them, and the noise coming so unexpectedly on the dead quiet of the cloudy night, startled them.