Presently the two girls found themselves alone, in the dark, in that lonesome wood. Nancy was too frightened to do more than keep whispering courage to Rosa, and Rosa was too miserable to do more than groan.
“Why--” started Nancy once more, but checked the query before it was formed. Of what use to question Rosa now? The thing to do was to hope for Orilla’s return. But even that worried Nancy.
“Oh, Nance,” groaned Rosa, “if my poor leg is broken--”
“It isn’t, dear, I’m sure,” consoled Nancy. “You know a strain feels dreadfully at first. Are you sure she’ll come back?”
“Oh, yes. She sounds mean, but that’s her way,” Rosa explained. “Can’t you see her light? Isn’t she coming yet?”
“No,” replied Nancy. “And Rosa, I feel I’ll just have to go back to the pavilion for Dell. What will they think?”
“Think we’re lost, maybe.” Rosa was tugging at the briars and uttering groans at every attempt to free herself. Nancy had torn the skin from her right hand in her attempts to help, but was still working carefully.
“How far is the road?” Nancy asked presently.
“Just there, behind that little hill. You can’t see it, of course--”
“I’ll have to. But oh, Nance,” as her cousin prepared to go, “you know I don’t want them to see me meeting Orilla. They just wouldn’t understand. Every one hates her so and she’s so bitter about it. Look again. Isn’t she coming?”
“Yes, I believe she is. There’s a spark--yes, it’s her light,” she added relievedly. “But how will she chop you out?”
“She carries tools; she’ll have a little chopper--a small ax, you know,” faltered Rosa, relief showing also in her voice.
“You mean a hatchet. Why would she carry a hatchet?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you, sometime; if I ever get out of this,” groaned Rosa, digging her fingers deep into the flesh of Nancy’s arm to which she was clinging.
The faithful little flash-light dispelled what darkness it could reach, as the girl with the small hatchet hurried back to them.
“Now don’t move while I chop,” she ordered sharply. “I’m hours late now, and I’ve got to hurry.”
“Being late--” began Nancy indignantly. But holding back the briars and bushes while Orilla chopped at that which so securely bound Rosa, precluded anything like objections to the apparent heartlessness of Orilla.