Billie did not cry out. She was either too frightened or too brave. But
the next minute Teddy's arm had reached out and caught her to him
reassuringly.
"It's all right," he whispered in her ear. "Just hold tight and keep
still. I'll do the talking."
Cautiously he drew her to the back of the cave, and there they turned
and waited for whatever was to happen. They did not have to wait long.
Some one or something was coming into the cave. There was a growling and
muttering in the tunnel-like entrance and the sounds increased as the
intruder came slowly nearer.
Then there came a stumbling sound, followed by a coarse oath that made
Billie clap her hands to her ears.
"It's a man, anyway," Teddy whispered, adding maliciously: "Stubbed his
toe on that old pitcher, I guess. Glad of it."
"Oh, Teddy, hush," whispered Billie frantically. "He'll hear you."
Evidently the intruder had heard them. He stopped short as though
listening. Billie and Teddy could distinctly hear his heavy breathing
while they held their own.
Then a hoarse, strident voice challenged them.
"Who are ye?" it cried, menacingly. "Whoever y'are ye've got to git out.
I'll teach ye to go breakin' into my cave and meddlin' with my things.
Come out o'thet, will ye?"
For answer, Teddy lighted a match, holding it high above his head while
he studied the intruder. The latter, evidently startled by the sudden
light, staggered back a little and flung his hand before his eyes.
The advantage was all Teddy's, and for a moment it looked as though he
would fling himself upon the little man who stood cowering there. But he
hesitated, and while he hesitated the match burned out in his fingers
and they were left in the dark once more.
"Light another match, Teddy--quick," whispered Billie, and he did.
This time the man lowered his hands from before his eyes and stood
blinking at them foolishly. He was so small and so slight and so puny
looking in every way that the gruff voice with which he had greeted them
in the beginning seemed little short of ridiculous.
And while they stared at the little man and the little man stared at
them, Teddy's third match went out.
"Gosh," said he, groping in his pocket for another. "I only hope they
hold out, that's all. I'd hate to be left in the dark."
He found a match and lit it rather shakily, for the whole thing was
beginning to get on his nerves. And as the uncertain light flared out
once more he saw that their queer new friend was holding something out
to him.
"Don't touch it," whispered Billie at his elbow. "It might be----"
"But it's only a candle, Billie, and----" Teddy was beginning when the
little fellow himself interrupted impatiently.
"Light it, light it," he commanded, glancing nervously over his shoulder
into the spooky corners of the cave. "Your match will be burnt out and
we will be left in the dark. The dark. I'm afraid of the dark. Hurry,
hurry!"
To Teddy and Billie at the same instant came the startling thought that
the man was a lunatic. His looks, his voice, his manner, were all proof
of it.
And while Teddy lighted the candle with his one remaining match, Billie
began to shiver wretchedly. If only they had not found the old cave
everything would have been all right. They might even have been home by
this time. For the moment she had forgotten how cold it was outside and
that neither she nor Teddy knew the way home.
While Teddy glanced about for some place to set the lighted candle, she
furtively studied the simpleton, into whose hiding-place they had been
unlucky enough to stumble.
He was about twenty-one, she guessed, scarcely more than a boy. His
features were as small as his body, his eyes little and red-rimmed and
shifty, with an expression of vacancy that made Billie's blood run cold.
His hair, as nearly as she could tell in the flickering light, was red.
And while Billie watched him, he watched Teddy, and she was surprised to
see his vacant eyes suddenly fill with terror. Then, when Teddy turned
back, after setting the candle on a projecting piece of rock, the
simpleton came close to him, holding out shaking, imploring hands.
"Have you come to take me away? Have you?" he asked wildly, and then as
Teddy still continued to stare at him, he fell to the ground, groveling
in the dirt at the boy's feet.
It was not a pretty sight, and with a little exclamation of disgust,
Teddy reached down, gripped the fellow's collar and jerked him to his
feet.
"For heaven's sake, get up," he cried. "What's the matter with you,
anyway? I'm not going to hurt you."
"You haven't come to take me away? You won't put me in prison?" whined
the simpleton, shaking and trembling there before them till Billie put
her hands before her eyes to shut out the sight of him. "I haven't done
anything! Truly I haven't! Don't put me in prison. Oh, I'm afraid of the
dark. I'm afraid of the dark!"
There is no telling how much longer he might have gone on in that manner
had not Teddy put a hand over his mouth and shaken him into silence.
Billie, cowering back against the wall, had begun to cry.
"Now," growled Teddy, giving one extra shake to the whining wretch,
"suppose you keep still for a minute and try to understand what I am
going to tell you. We didn't come into your cave to get you, and we're
not going to hurt you if you will do what we tell you. We're lost, and
we want to get back to Three Towers Hall. Do you suppose you can tell us
how?"
The simpleton, relieved of his suspicion that they had come to do him
harm, became suddenly sullen. Teddy had to repeat his question before
the fellow answered.
"I can," he said then, "if I want to."
Teddy was about to answer angrily, but he remembered that he had heard
somewhere that the only way you can get anything out of a weak-minded
person is to humor him.
So he controlled his temper and said that he hoped very much that the
fellow would want to--and the sooner the better, or words to that
effect.
"What's your name?" asked Billie suddenly. It was the first time she had
spoken, and both Teddy and the simpleton started. The latter stared at
her a moment open-mouthed, and then his manner underwent a bewildering
change--became softer, more normal. Evidently he had not noticed before
that she was a girl, for she had been nearly hidden behind Teddy.
"What's your name?" asked Billie again.
"Nick Budd, ma'am," answered the fellow, never taking his eyes from
Billie's pretty face. "Son of Tim Budd, the gardener up at Three Towers
Hall."
"Oh!" cried Billie delightedly, while Teddy himself felt immensely
relieved. "Then you will show us the way home, won't you? We'll be ever
so much obliged to you."
"Yes'm," said the poor simpleton, shuffling his feet as though
embarrassed. "I'll show you right away. But there's a powerful lot o'
snow between us and the Hall," he added, as he turned to leave the cave.
Teddy started to take the candle to light them out, but the simpleton,
as though he had eyes in the back of his head, turned upon Teddy
furiously.
"You let thet candle be," he cried to the astonished boy, while Billie
shrank back in fresh alarm. "You let thet candle be, I tell you! It's my
candle, ain't it?"
"Whew!" whistled Teddy, feeling a wild desire to shout, yet afraid to do
it for fear of angering still more this poor idiot. "Yes, it's your
candle, old man. Be sure you take good care of it. It's very precious."
The simpleton stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then turned his
back and led the way out of the cave.
"Oh, Teddy, I'm scared to death," whispered Billie, as the boy grabbed
tight hold of her hand and started to follow Nick Budd.
"You needn't be," he whispered back to her. "I could clean up that
little shrimp with one finger." Which observation, though extremely
slangy, was very comforting to Billie.
They found the sled outside where Teddy had dropped it when they entered
the cave, and then there began a long, hard struggle with the snow and
the wind that the boy and girl were to remember long afterward.
They did not talk much, for they were too busy trying to keep up with
Nick Budd as he floundered through the snow, and breath was precious.
However, Billie did find a chance to ask the question that had been
looming bigger and bigger with each second.
"Teddy, what do you suppose the boys and girls will think of our
disappearing like that?" she asked him.
"I suppose they'll think we went off in an aeroplane or something," he
answered, trying to be funny and not succeeding very well.
"Well," sighed Billie, "I only hope they won't go and say anything about
it at school--not till we get back and have a chance to explain,
anyway."
Teddy glanced at her quickly.
"Nobody would be mean enough to do that," he said, decidedly.
"No-o, I guess not," agreed Billie, but in her heart she was not at all
sure. She was thinking of Amanda Peabody.