The lanterns stood quite still for a
minute more, and then they bobbed away. At first I didn't believe
that they were really growing smaller and smaller. But they were,
and at last they were gone entirely, far down the shore.
"Are you crying, Chris?" Jerry said suddenly, in a queer, wheezy
voice. He'd been shouting even harder than I had.
"I think not," I said, and my own voice was very strange indeed.
Jerry whacked me hard on the back, and said:
"Good old Chris! _Good_ old Chris!"
The shore of Wecanicut was so black that we might have dreamed the
lanterns, but I still could hear the way Father's own voice had
sounded, calling "Chris-ti-ine!" We almost stumbled over Greg when
we crawled back to him, and he said: "Can we go home now, Chris?"
The wind gnashed around in a spiteful kind of way, and Jerry touched
my hand suddenly and said: "Chris, it's raining."
CHAPTER IX
It _was_ raining,--big cold splashes that came faster and faster. I
felt my blouse stick coldly to my shoulder in the places where it
was wet.
"We _can't_ let Greg lie there and have it rain on him," I said.
Jerry and I thought of the pirate cave at the same moment, but we
didn't see how we could possibly carry Greg to it in the dark. We
thought that as it wasn't his legs that were hurt he might be able
to walk there, if we helped him.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71