"
Relieved of our weight, the horse stumbled bravely into the
trackless sand, while below on the damper and firmer shingle we
walked by the edge of the water.
The tide was coming in and the spent waves, spreading before them
an advance guard of tiny shells and pebbles, threatened our boots'
and at the same time in soothing, lazy whispers warned us of their
attack. These lisping murmurs and the crash and roar of each
incoming wave as it broke were the only sounds. And on the beach we
were the only human figures. At last the scene began to bear some
resemblance to one set for an adventure. The rolling ocean, a coast
steamer dragging a great column of black smoke, and cast high upon
the beach the wreck of a schooner, her masts tilting drunkenly,
gave color to our purpose. It became filled with greater promise of
drama, more picturesque. I began to thrill with excitement. I
regarded Edgar appealingly, in eager supplication. At last he broke
the silence that was torturing me.
"We will now walk higher up," he commanded. "If we get our feet
wet, we may take cold."
My spirit was too far broken to make reply. But to my relief I saw
that in leaving the beach Edgar had some second purpose. With each
heavy step he was drawing toward two high banks of sand in a hollow
behind which, protected by the banks, were three stunted,
wind-driven pines. His words came back to me.
"So many what-you-may-call-'ems." Were these pines the three
somethings from something, the what-you-may-call-'ems? The thought
chilled me to the spine.
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