"Coming from Peterock way," Adrian said, "we shall see who it is in a jiff; they are bound to come in front of us, unless they jump the hedge into the field. Sounds like a girl running." "Why?" asked Christobel, "much more likely to be Peter Cherry, or someone like that. There are not many girls to run when one comes to calculate." They were approaching the turn. The road before them was white and clear, the trees at the corner looking curiously distinct. With one accord both ceased to speak, and gave all attention to the light regular sound that drew nearer. Pat, pat, pat--fell the running feet, and from the side-road appeared a figure. In a moment it was speeding down hill in front of the interested pair. "_Addie!_" gasped Christobel, with startled emphasis. "My only aunt!" ejaculated Adrian, "who’d have thought it." "You see who it is?" "Rather!" "But, Addie, what’s she doing coming from Folly Ho, this time of night?" "Why ask me?" said her brother with reason. "Mother thinks she’s in bed, of course," went on Christobel in a troubled voice; "I’m sure it can be explained, but it is horrid. It’s utter bad form. I wouldn’t have believed it of Pam." Adrian maintained a gloomy silence. Brothers never approve of unconventional explosions on the part of sisters; especially very pretty sisters of Pamela’s age. It is taken as a matter of course that they are not old enough for independent action. With one accord the two elders increased their pace to a fast walk, then to a trot. "We shall see her directly," said Crow, "she wasn’t going so very fast, and the road past Woodrising is perfectly straight for some way." They reached the corner. Ahead of them, some way down the hill, was a running figure. Adrian put his fingers to his mouth and made a long, harsh whistle like a steam escape. For a moment they saw a face, as the girl checked and glanced round. But she did not stop, she ran on again, evidently faster. "Jolly well ashamed of herself," said Adrian, rigidly disapproving. "She can’t escape, Crow. She’ll be ahead of us--in sight--all the way home." It is a proverb never "to boast", that is to say, never to reckon on a hope as a fact--lest something unexpected spoils the hope. In this case the moon failed the pursuers. They had been so intent on Pamela that neither of them noticed a big patch of cloud sailing swiftly up from the north. In a moment the moon was shut off, and in a minute the darkness was pretty complete, for the cloud was a heavy one. "Oh--dash it!" exclaimed Adrian irritably, "just when we were sure." "Never mind, we can run just the same. We shall get used to the dark, and anyway, Addie, _she_ can’t run fast any more than we can. One can’t help taking care, when one can’t see." "Hedges are getting clearer," suggested Adrian, "funny how quickly one gets used to things. This Woodrising wall is plain as the lighthouse."