“‘Course I do; I’ve been once, and I always remember. Didn’t I go
and get my box all right?”
That convinced Rob, and he followed blindly as Nan led him over
stock and stone, and brought him, after much meandering, to a
small recess in the rock, where the blackened stones showed that
fires had been made.
“Now, isn’t it nice?” asked Nan, as she took out a bit of
bread-and-butter, rather damaged by being mixed up with nails,
fishhooks, stones and other foreign substances, in the young lady’s
pocket.
“Yes; do you think they will find us soon?” asked Rob, who found
the shadowy glen rather dull, and began to long for more society.
“No, I don’t; because if I hear them, I shall hide, and have fun
making them find me.”
“P’raps they won’t come.”
“Don’t care; I can get home myself.”
“Is it a great way?” asked Rob, looking at his little stubby boots,
scratched and wet with his long wandering.
“It’s six miles, I guess.” Nan’s ideas of distance were vague, and her
faith in her own powers great.
“I think we better go now,” suggested Rob, presently.
“I shan’t till I have picked over my berries;” and Nan began what
seemed to Rob an endless task.
“Oh, dear! you said you’d take good care of me,” he sighed, as the
sun seemed to drop behind the hill all of a sudden.
“Well I am taking good care of you as hard as I can. Don’t be cross,
child; I’ll go in a minute,” said Nan, who considered five-year-old
Robby a mere infant compared to herself.
So little Rob sat looking anxiously about him, and waiting
patiently, for, spite of some misgivings, he felt great confidence in
Nan.
“I guess it’s going to be night pretty soon,” he observed, as if to
himself, as a mosquito bit him, and the frogs in a neighboring
marsh began to pipe up for the evening concert.
“My goodness me! so it is. Come right away this minute, or they
will be gone,” cried Nan, looking up from her work, and suddenly
perceiving that the sun was down.
“I heard a horn about an hour ago; may be they were blowing for
us,” said Rob, trudging after his guide as she scrambled up the
steep hill.
“Where was it?” asked Nan, stopping short.
“Over that way;” he pointed with a dirty little finger in an entirely
wrong direction.
“Let’s go that way and meet them;” and Nan wheeled about, and
began to trot through the bushes, feeling a trifle anxious, for there
were so many cow-paths all about she could not remember which
way they came.
On they went over stock and stone again, pausing now and then to
listen for the horn, which did not blow any more, for it was only
the moo of a cow on her way home.
“I don’t remember seeing that pile of stones do you?” asked Nan, as
she sat on a wall to rest a moment and take an observation.
“I don’t remember any thing, but I want to go home,” and Rob’s
voice had a little tremble in it that made Nan put her arms round
him and lift him gently down, saying, in her most capable way,
“I’m going just as fast as I can, dear. Don’t cry, and when we come
to the road, I’ll carry you.”
“Where is the road?” and Robby wiped his eyes to look for it.
“Over by that big tree. Don’t you know that’s the one Ned tumbled
out of?”
“So it is. May be they waited for us; I’d like to ride home wouldn’t
you?” and Robby brightened up as he plodded along toward the
end of the great pasture.
“No, I’d rather walk,” answered Nan, feeling quite sure that she
would be obliged to do so, and preparing her mind for it.
Another long trudge through the fast-deepening twilight and
another disappointment, for when they reached the tree, they found
to their dismay that it was not the one Ned climbed, and no road
anywhere appeared.
“Are we lost?” quavered Rob, clasping his pail in despair.
“Not much. I don’t just see which way to go, and I guess we’d