No amount of fumbling on the bottom revealed anything further except that Betsey, lifting a stone, grasped a frog that was beneath it and almost tumbled into the water with the dreadful start its slippery little body caused her. She sat up, panting, and attempted to wring out her wet sleeve. “What if we could not find them after all,” she lamented. “Mr. Reynolds must have meant that no one, not even himself, should ever have them again.” But David was not willing to give up so easily. “It is like a needle in a haystack,” he admitted, “but even such things have been found.” He poised himself at the edge of the basin, then slid into the water with the clean straight dive of an expert swimmer. Once he went down, and twice, and came up empty handed. The third time he was gone so long that the water quieted and the reflected stars shone once more in their places. Betsey, leaning over to watch in an agony of apprehension, felt her tired spirit completely give way. “Oh, David,” she wailed, although under her breath, “don’t be drowned and leave me alone in the dark.” As though in answer to her words a widening circle suddenly appeared on the surface and David’s head rose at the center of the pool. He gasped and spluttered and shook the water from his eyes. “I have them,” he announced joyfully, “one in each hand. Now we have found them all.” He came clambering out on the edge of the basin, the water pouring from him in streams, his red head sleek and shining. “I got a little short of breath that last time,” he admitted. “I kept touching the things and they kept rolling away, I thought I would never get them in my hands. They would have rusted to bits in a little longer; we have not found them at all too soon.” Michael’s wits seemed to be wandering a little when they returned to him, nor did he appear to understand very clearly the account that, both speaking excitedly, they poured into his ears. “Of course, of course,” he kept repeating a little impatiently, “did I not tell you that the secret of the ill luck charm lay in the pool of stars?” “You did, Michael,” Betsey agreed soothingly at last, “but you see we did not quite understand.” “And now,” said David, getting up, “I am going back to the cottage to telephone for the doctor and to bring help to carry Michael home. It will not be long.” Betsey sat very quiet after he had gone. The wind whooped and whirled overhead, bowing the trees and beating back and forth the branches of the vines and shrubs. All at once she began to hear a strange cracking, a grating of stones and the snapping of ivy stems, the crushing of bushes, then an appalling rumble that grew to a deafening crash of falling stone. Even in the sheltered corner where they were, the ground rocked and a cloud of gritty dust blew in upon them, almost choking them both. Michael, startled, actually managed to raise himself on his elbow. “What was that?” he asked.