“If it breaks off the match I won’t be surprised,” replied Peggy, with resigned intonation.
“There wasn’t any match to break off.”
“Well!” replied the other, and as she slowly rose she added: “I won’t say that he is perfectly distracted about you, but I do know that he thinks more of you than of any other woman in the world, and I’ve no doubt he is worrying about you this minute.”
II
It was deep moonless night when Alice woke with a start. For a few moments she lay wondering what had roused her—then a bright light flashed and her companion screamed.
“Who’s there!” demanded the girl.
In that instant flare she saw a man’s face, young, smooth, with dark eyes gleaming beneath a broad hat. He stood like a figure of bronze while his match was burning, then exclaimed in breathless wonder:
“Great Peter’s ghost! a woman!” Finally he stepped forward and looked down upon the white, scared faces as if uncertain of his senses. “Two of them!” he whispered. As he struck his second match he gently asked: “Would you mind saying how you got here?”
Alice spoke first. “We came up with a geological survey. I got hurt and they had to leave us behind.”
“Where’s your party gone?”