She beat up and down among the trees, striving to keep an eye in every
direction, since any one of the big stumps, any clump of brushwood, any
old log or little knoll or grassy hollow might hide the one she
sought--unable, perhaps, to see her or call to her even should she pass
in his sight. She remembered Jim's advice, and began to sing; but the
words died in her throat, and ended in something more like a sob.
Whistling was more possible, and mechanically she took up a tune that
Wally used to sing, and whistled it up and down the scrub as she went.
Soon she did not know that she was doing so; but years after she used
to shudder within herself if she heard that foolish little tune.
The men came out a little later, and soon the scrub was alive with
voices and the noise of the searching. It was weary work, with many a
flutter at the heart when a sudden call would bring Norah to attention,
rigid and listening--forgetting for the moment that only the three
signals agreed upon were to give evidence of success. Hour after hour
went by.
They had settled a certain signal to meet for lunch, and when it
finally summoned them the searchers struggled out of the bush one by
one. Jim's heart smote him as he saw Norah's white face, and he begged
her to cease; to stay resting during the hot afternoon, even if she
would not go home.
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