It had become terrible not to be reunited with the others. She thought
of the hours, the long hours, that she and Johnny Byrd had been alone
and she flinched, shivering under the whiplash of fear.

What were they saying of her, those others? What were they thinking?

She knew how unwarrantable, how inexcusable a thing she had done.

It had begun with deliberate loitering. For that--for a little of
that--she had the sanction of the new American freedom, the permission
of Cousin Jane's casual, understanding smile.

"It's all right," that smile had seemed to say to her, "it's all right
as long as it's Johnny Byrd--but be careful, Ri-Ri."

And she had loitered shamefully, she had plunged into the woods with
Johnny in that thunder storm, she had let him take her on the wrong
path.

And now it was growing dark and they were far from the others--and she
was not sure, even, that they were upon the right way.

But they _must_ be. They could not be so hideously, so finally wrong.

Panic routed her exhaustion and she toiled furiously on.

"You're a pretty good scout--for a little Wop," said Johnny Byrd with a
sudden grin and a moment's brightness was lighted within her.

She did not speak--she could only breathe hard and smile.

Nearer and nearer they gained the top, rough climbing but not dangerous.
The top was not far now. Johnny shouted and listened, then shouted
again.

Once they thought they heard voices but it was only the echoes of their
own, borne hollowly back.

"The wind is the other way," said Johnny, and on they went, charging up
a steep, gravelly slope over more rocks and into a scrub group of firs.
. . .

Surely this was as near the top as one could go! Nothing above but
barren, tilted rock. Nothing beyond but more boulders and stunted trees.
The place lay bare before their eyes.

Round and round they went, calling, holding their breath to listen.
Then, with a common impulse, they turned and stared at each other.

That moment told Maria Angelina what panic was.

CHAPTER VII

JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE

She did not speak. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears. Her
knees were trembling and she sat down with the effect of collapse and
looked mutely up at Johnny.

"Judas," said Johnny bitterly.

He stared around once more, evading her eyes now, and then he moved over
and sat down beside her, drawing out his cigarettes.

Slowly he took one, tapped its end upon a rock, and li