eby and none of the rest of the
world would be affected either way."

Betty looked at the pond again and then gave Katherine a soft little
hug. "Katherine Kittredge, you're an old dear," she said, "and if you
really don't mind, I'll go ahead; but if she asks me how I dared to come
alone or says anything about how I got here, I shall tell her that you
were with me."

"All right, but I fancy she won't be thinking about that. The matches
are so she can see her way to you. It's awfully hard to follow a sound
across the water, but if you light one match after another she can get
to you before the supply gives out, if she's anywhere near. Don't light
any till she answers. If she doesn't answer, I'll come down to you and
we'll walk on up the river a little way and find her there."

"Yes," said Betty. "Where shall you stay?"

"Oh, right under this tree, I guess," answered Katherine carelessly.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

When Betty had fairly gone, doubts began to assail Katherine, as they
have a habit of assailing impulsive people, after it is too late to pay
heed to them. It occurred to her that she was cooperating in what might
easily turn out to be a desperate adventure, and that it would have been
the part of wisdom to enlist the services of more competent and better
equipped searchers at once, without risking delay on the slender chance
of finding Eleanor near the wharf. "Eleanor would have hated the
publicity, but if she wants to come up here in the dark and frighten us
all into hysteria she must take the consequences. And I'd have let her
too, if it hadn't been for Betty."

An owl hooted, and Katherine jumped as nervously as Betty would have
done. Poor Betty! She must be almost at the landing by this time. At
that very moment a little quavering voice rang out over the water.

"Eleanor! Eleanor Watson! Eleanor! Oh, Eleanor, where are you?"

For a long moment there was silence. Then the owl hooted again. That was
too much. Katherine jumped up with a bound and started down the bank
toward Betty. She did not stop to find the path, and at the second step
caught her foot and fell headlong. Apparently Betty did not hear her.
She had not yet given up hope, for she was calling again, pausing each
time to listen for the answer that did not come.

"Oh, Eleanor, Eleanor, aren't you there?" she cried and stopped, even
the courage of despair gone at last. Katherine, nursing a bruised knee
on the hill above, had opened her